Now and Beyond
by HelenBeacham
Summary: A continuation of the episode "Curtain Call" We pick up where we left off in the episode, with the team escaping Decker and his men at the mine entrance
1. Chapter 1

**Now and Beyond**

**by**

**HelenBeacham**

Taking a seat behind the wheel, Face waited anxiously for the team members to be accounted for before he slammed his foot on the accelerator to thrust the van backwards. As the tires dug into the dirt Decker looked up to see one of his MPs leap out of the passenger door. No sooner had he ordered his men to jump into their cars to engage in hot pursuit of the escaping prisoners, Hannibal slid open the side door of the van and shot several rounds into the patrol car tires.

The van disappeared behind a thick cloud of billowing smoke, leaving a fuming Decker behind.

"Hey, we did it Hannibal!" Face shouted excitedly from the driver seat while throwing the key for the handcuffs to Hannibal.

Once his wrists were free from the cuffs, Hannibal drew a cigar from out of his shirt pocket and stuck it between his grinning lips. "I do love it when a plan comes together, but I admit it wasn't one of my best. Luck played a major role. If Decker hadn't agreed to put us all in the van, this might as well have been the end of the road for us."

"I must say I was worried he wouldn't agree to let us all get into the van. I knew it was our only way of escaping together," B.A. said. "Guess the man has a heart after all." He turned to Tawnia and brows furrowed with concern at her anguished expression. "What's the matter, girl?"

Without lifting her eyes off the bandaged patient lying on the floor of the van, she knelt down beside Murdock's body and gently laid a hand on his chest. "Murdock's not breathing."

"What?" Both B.A. and Hannibal chorused with each diving to their knees beside their injured friend. Hannibal discarded his cigar and checked for any sign of life. "I...I don't feel a pulse," he announced tensely as panic slowly crept up on him. "Damn it!" he cursed as he swiftly removed his jacket to prepare to administer CPR.

"Want me to stop the van?" Face suggested, striving to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead.

"Find a location where we can hide the van behind bushes. I don't want Decker to find us."

"You got it." Face got busy scanning the area for the ideal halt spot away from prying eyes.

"B.A., remove the bandages from his face, will you? Tawnia, when I give you the word, you breathe air into his lungs, got it?" he instructed the twosome who nodded their understanding.

"I found it, Hannibal. Hold on just a second back there. I'll park it somewhere inconspicuous."

"Hurry Face," Hannibal stressed as he prepped the patient to receive his shock treatment.

"It's all off, Hannibal," B.A. said after removing the last piece of cloth around Murdock's face. His stomach churned at the sight of the blue-tinged lips and sunken eyes morbidly staring back at him.

Once the van was immobilized, Hannibal began the chest compressions in a steady rhythm, with Tawnia breathing air into the still form at regular intervals. She would monitor the pulse every twenty second.

Three minutes had elapsed and still not sign of life. "Come on, Murdock! You held on this far. Don't give up now!"

"Let me have a crack at it. I'll bring him back," B.A. asserted resolutely, shoving Hannibal aside to take his place at Murdock's side. "Now you fool, breathe!" he barked threateningly as he proceeded to give his friend a cardiac thump to revive him, but that too failed to produce any result. "I'm only gonna said it twice, Murdock, and this time you'd better heed my warning if you know what's good for ya!" B.A. thrust another fist into Murdock's chest with a force that sent a shock wave coursing through the empty shell, whipping it back to life. Murdock sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. B.A. pressed his ear against his friend's chest and cracked a smile of relief. "He's back, Hannibal. He's breathing again."

"The pulse is still weak, though," Tawnia observed dismally, turning to Face for reassurance.

"Hey, don't you worry, Tawnia," Face assured by wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. "Murdock's a tough cookie. He was wounded twice in Nam and managed to bounce back just fine." He flashed an emboldening smile that faded quickly upon glancing at Hannibal and B.A..

"We've got to get him to a hospital and quick," B.A. urged menacingly, despite knowing the task was utterly impossible to carry out.

"The nearest hospital is only ten minutes away," Face stated.

"Guys, we cannot drop idly by a hospital. You know as well as I do we risk getting caught. Decker's on our heels and he knows we have a wounded man. It'll be the first place he comes looking for us. I suspect he already has the hospitals in the area under heavy surveillance. No, we can't dice it."

"Hannibal we'll have to take that chance, otherwise Murdock will die," B.A. argued. "I'm willing to be the fall guy if that's what it takes to save the fool's life."

"Sorry ole buddy but I can't let you do it. It'll be suicide. Can't risk the life of one of my team members to save another. Besides there's no guarantee he won't be DOA when we get there. No, we've got to find something else."

"What about bringing him to Maggie's?" Face suggested.

"That's nearly sixty miles from here. Murdock won't make it that far." Hannibal raised a fist to his lips in deep concentration.

"I don't think we have any other options, Hannibal," Tawnia stressed.

"Alright," Hannibal yielded to the inevitable. "Face, get the van moving again. "We'll take him to Maggie's. Hopefully she'll stabilize his condition while waiting for an ambulance. She'll look out for him and report to us on his condition."

"You got it!" Face resumed his seat behind the wheel and put the van in reverse to get back on the road.

B.A. placed a gentle hand on Murdock's shoulder and pursed his lips to suppress the overwhelming emotions threatening to engulf him whole. "Hold on, buddy. You'll be alright, now."

With both hands nervously gripping the wheel, Face struggled against the urge to put the pedal to the metal and send the van zooming down the road to make better time to Maggie's. He would steal sneak peeks at the rear view mirror to check on his friends' reactions to the patient's condition. So far, no change.

Ten minutes into their frantic ride, Tawnia checked Murdock's pulse and cringed.

"How is he?" Hannibal queried apprehensively.

"Not good. I can barely feel a pulse and his breathing's dangerously shallow." She gingerly lifted the bloody shirt off Murdock's chest and noticed the blood soaked bandage. "The wound's still oozing blood. He won't hold on much longer."

"Hey!" Face shouted as he slowed the van to a complete stop.

"What's the matter, Face? Why are you stopping?" Hannibal asked.

"There's a doctor over there," he said, pointing to the left side of the road. "A Doctor Kelly Stevens."

All eager eyes followed the finger's direction. "She's a vet!" B.A. groused.

"Doesn't matter, she's a doctor. She can maintain Murdock alive by giving him a blood transfusion. That should hold him until we can get him to Maggie's," Face expounded to his colleagues who all looked at one another to gauge the others' views to Face's suggestion.

"He's right, Hannibal," Tawnia agreed. Then lowering her eyes to gaze sombrely at the wounded man, she added, "It's Murdock's only chance."

"Ok," Hannibal acquiesced. "Face, take us there."

Face steered the van to the left and drove down the small road leading up to the doctor's home office. There, he parked the car in the driveway and rushed out of the van to go lend a hand in carrying Murdock inside.

"Tawnia, go and advise the doctor we're bringing in a wounded man in dire need of blood."

"Ok Hannibal." Tawnia shuffled out of the van and ran up to Dr. Stevens' office. "Is anyone here?" she called out with an anguished cry while frantically knocking on the door. "Please, I need help."

A beautiful ocean-blue-eyed petite woman clad in a white smock opened the door. "I'm Doctor Stevens. What's the problem?"

"Doctor, my friend's been shot and he's in bad shape. He lost an awful lot of blood."

"But I'm a veterinarian, I...."

"Please, you have to do something or he's going to die," Tawnia beseeched.

Barely had Kelly have time for rebuttal that Hannibal, Face and B.A. passed her on the doorstep with their bundle. Her heart sank at the pitiful sight in the sling and instinctively pushed the office door wider for them to enter.

"Put him on the table over there," she indicated as she followed them to the examination room.

No sooner had the team laid Murdock down that Kelly began her probing. "Help me remove his shirt, gently." Tawnia and Face heeded her instructions with delicate ministrations despite Murdock's comatose state. "What happened to him?" she asked as she checked the patient's vitals.

"He got shot in the shoulder. I was able to remove the bullet but I'm afraid infection has set in. He's burning up with fever," Hannibal explained.

"That's an understatement." She removed the thermometer from underneath Murdock's armpit and frowned at the results. "104.2. We'll need to cool him down and drain the infection."

"What about blood?"

"Yes, he definitely needs a transfusion but not before I get his temperature down a bit or it won't do him any good. Problem is I don't have his type of blood, human blood that is."

"You take mine. Me and that man have the same type of blood," B.A. stated assertively, clenching a fist to show he had plenty of bodily fluid to spare for his friend.

"That's good. Right now, I need to lower his core temperature and for that, I'm going to require lots of ice. If you gentlemen would be so kind as to fetch me a few bags down in the cellar?"

Face and Hannibal volunteered to do the doctor's bidding while B.A. went to the window to keep an eye out for any unwelcomed visitors.

"I take it this man is a friend of yours?" Kelly alleged, prompting a grief-stricken B.A. to turn to Murdock.

"Yeah. He's my best buddy, but don't tell him that or it'll go to his head," B.A. confided through a hardened face, though Kelly could see behind that mask that the big guy held the wounded man in high esteem and would gladly forfeit his own life to save his.

"Do you mind my asking who you are?" she asked casually while putting an oxygen mask over Murdock's face.

B.A. lowered his gaze for a brief moment to ponder her question. "My name's B.A. Baracus and this here man is H.M. Murdock."

"I'm Tawnia Baker."

"Are you his girlfriend?"

"No I'm just a friend of the group. I'm only tagging along. "

"And I'm John Smith," Hannibal said as he appeared in the door with the bags of ice.

"And I'm Templeton Peck, but everyone calls me Face."

"Mind as well know the truth. We're the A-Team," Hannibal confessed as he dropped the bags onto the floor.

"The A-Team. Yes I've heard about you but I didn't think you really existed."

"Oh we're real, all right. Days like these I wish we weren't, though" Face confided, relieving himself of his frozen burden. He then walked up to the table to gaze down at the patient. "What do you want us to do now?"

"I'll need you to hold him while I slide a blanket under him. It'll keep the ice tightly wrapped around his body."

While Hannibal and Face followed the doctor's instructions, B.A. suggested hiding the van out back to avoid being spotted from the road.

Moments later, Kelly settled on draining the infection despite the spike in Murdock's temperature that was now hovering at an abominable 105. The team was on pins and needles and waited with bathed breath at the prognostic. Kelly assured them that the patient came through the surgery well and was now in stable condition. "He's not out of the woods yet, but I'm confident that the drainage will bring his fever down and we'll be able to proceed with the transfusion."

"Thank you, doctor. You have no idea how grateful we are of your help and your discretion. As you know we're wanted men and therefore we couldn't bring him to a hospital," Hannibal explained, before wincing at the sight of Murdock's ashen face, sunken cheeks and bluish lips.

"I understand. But you're aware that he needs serious medical attention that only a hospital can provide. I'm afraid I've done all I could for him. I just hope the blood transfusion will infuse the strength he'll need to survive the trip to the hospital."

"I'm sure it'll be enough. Murdock's a born fighter. He won't take the coward way out," Hannibal stated steadfastly, glancing at the patient cocooned in a pack of ice cubes. "He'll be alright," He mumbled waveringly underneath his breath as if losing faith in his belief.

* * *

When Murdock's fever dwindled in early evening, Kelly prepped both patients for the blood transfusion. She waited for Murdock's condition to stabilize before calling for an ambulance.

"The ambulance's on its way," she announced to the anguished team members. "I'll wait for the paramedics. You'd better go now . I know what to tell them and I promise not to mention any of your names. You were never here. Murdock dropped on my doorstep and that's all there is to it. I don't know anything more."

"Good girl," Hannibal expressed gratitude with a pat on her shoulder. "We'll drop by later to check on his condition."

"I'll expect you to," she smiled, hugging both Face and Hannibal. She saw them making their way to the bed in the corner of the room where Murdock was now resting comfortably. "Don't worry. He's in good hands."

"Maybe I should stay and go with Murdock at the hospital," Tawnia offered.

"It's too dangerous. Decker knows you're part of the team. If he spots you at the hospital, he will bring you in for questioning. And he'll grill you until you spill the beans."

"Don't worry. I'll see that your friend gets the best care."

"We know you will, Kelly. Thank you again for your help."

"Don't mention it, Colonel. It's my pleasure. I just hope I did enough."

"You did more than you think. See ya later."

All four members headed out the door and climbed into the van. Kelly watched them drive away before returning to her patient who was showing signs of regaining consciousness. A tiny stir caught her attention. She heard a muffled moan as she padded up to the bed.

"Mister Murdock, can you hear me? I'm Doctor Stevens. Please open your eyes." Murdock's eyes fluttered as he strained to pry them open. "That's it, you're doing fine."

Finally, the lids slowly pulled apart and vacuous eyes peer through the mist to focus on the angelic face smiling down at him. "Died and...and gone to heaven?" he mumbled weakly, blinking heavily from the strain.

"Not exactly," she said amusedly. "You're very much alive, but pretty badly hurt. You lie still. The ambulance's on its way."

"Ambulance?"

"Your injuries are very severe. You need to be in a hospital."

Murdock's eyes began to rove around the room to establish his surroundings. "Where...where am I?" he breathed out with a tinge of concern.

"You're in my clinic. Your friends brought you here."

"Friends?" Murdock's brow creased with worry as he failed to construe the meaning behind the word 'friends'.


	2. Chapter 2

Kelly grew concerned at the noticeable change in his behaviour. "It's ok. Don't try to think right now Mr. Murdock. You need to keep your strength. You're extremely weak."

"Mister Murdock?" he whispered to himself in puzzlement, drawing a blank as to his identity. "That's...that's my name?" he asked expectantly, his mind a complete clutter.

Kelly was at a lost for word until the ambulance sirens were heard blaring in the distance. "The ambulance's here," she signed with relief and went to meet the paramedics at the door, leaving Murdock alone to cudgel his brains as to the events of the past hours.

Kelly filled the medics in on Murdock's present condition and delivered Hannibal's textbook speech about the wounded man dropping from exhaustion on her doorstep. Seeing how she held the answers to questions bound to be asked by the attending physicians, the medics didn't see any objection as to her accompanying the patient to the hospital.

Murdock slept throughout the ride with Kelly keeping a vigil by his side. The sheen of heavy perspiration covering the pinched face was a reason for concern, but she nevertheless found herself gazing lovingly at this fine-looking man with the mesmerizing brown eyes and handsome features. Was she getting emotionally involved with this stranger? She was aware of the dangers of sliding down that road, whether animal or human. As a doctor, she was allowed to show concern but emotions were proscribed. However, for the first time in her career, she found it hard to remain impassive.

While orderlies wheeled the patient into the emergency room, the medical team grilled Kelly with details regarding the shooting and queried her on the patient's medical history, to which the flustered vet could not provide any answer. Once the onslaught of questions over, an emotionally- drained Kelly chose to wait for surgery to be over before returning home where she expected the A-Team to be anxiously awaiting news on their friend's condition.

Time stood still as Kelly searched the reason behind her deep feelings for Murdock. Literally, in a blink of eye, he had managed to steal the key to her heart, a feat at which a few men had been successful and yet, this handsome, helpless stranger had achieved it without even trying.

"Are you Doctor Stevens?" The question broke her train of thoughts and jolted her back to reality. "Yes I am." She sprung up from the couch and searched the man's eyes for a hint as to the answer of her next question. "How is Mister Murdock?"

"He's in a critical but stable condition right now. He's still not out of the woods. He has a long road ahead of him but thanks to your quick intervention, I expect he'll make a full recovery."

"Oh thank God," she heaved out with relief, putting a hand over her heart, hoping to slow its erratic beat.

"Does this man have any next of kin that we can contact?"

Kelly shook her head. "I don't know, doctor. As I told the nurse before, the man just crumbled from exhaustion on my doorstep. He was barely breathing and extremely weak from the blood lost. He was out the whole time I was treating him. Except for a brief moment before the ambulance arrived, he regained consciousness and I noticed then that he didn't seem to remember who he was."

"Well, he didn't suffer any concussion that could explain the amnesia. But you did mention he was in cardiac arrest for nearly five minutes? There could be brain damage from oxygen deprivation."

Kelly's teary eyes dropped in total despair. She bit her upper lip to refrain it from trembling. Why was she expressing such grief for a man she hardly knew?

"I don't have to tell you that the next twenty-four hours will be critical. We'll monitor his vitals at regular intervals and watch for any sign of brain damage. Right now his EEG is showing irregular wave patterns and we're hoping they will stabilize to a normal rhythm."

"But if they don't, that means that he...." Kelly's voice faltered, choking in mid sentence at the thought of that likely possibility. She found a bit of solace in the fact that the damage couldn't possibly be as extensive as expected for she recalled that, aside from an noticeable amnesia, Murdock's speech was coherent upon briefly regaining consciousness, and therefore could rule out aphasia or worse: vegetative state. Hannibal did say that Murdock was in cardiac arrest for nearly five minutes in the van, but could he have miscalculated?

Sensing her distress, the doctor placed a comforting hand on her shoulders and flashed her a sympathetic smile, "We'll do everything humanly possible for him. Go home now and we'll be in touch as to his progress, whether good or bad."

"Thank you Doctor. I do need to tend to my other patients," she tittered light-heartedly at the irony behind her comment. With a heavy heart, she turned toward the exit, but stopped and turned to cast one last look at the doctor's retreating back, hesitating as to whether she should have asked to see Murdock in the ICU. She shook her head and judged it best to go on her way. Decker nearly knocked her off balance as he and his second Crane brushed passed the petite brunette on their way to the nurses' station. Recalling what Hannibal had told her about their running from the military police, she considered sticking around to gather as much information as she could to report to the rest of the A-Team. She padded up to the desk and hid behind a corner to lend an ear to the conversation.

"We don't have anyone named Templeton Peck here, Colonel," Kelly heard the nurse respond.

"Do you have any shooting victims that came in the last few hours?"

At that moment, Murdock's doctor walked up to the desk. "Colonel Decker, perhaps Doctor Simmons would be able to answer your questions."

"What's going on?" the confused doctor asked.

"I'm Colonel Decker. I was just asking your nurse here if any shooting victims had been administered to this hospital in the last few hours."

"We've only had one," Doctor Simmons answered warily.

"What's his name?"

"I'm sorry Colonel, that's privileged information," the doctor answered indignantly, as if insulted that Decker would even consider his infringing on hospital rules.

Miffed at the doctor's rudeness defying his authority, Decker took a step forward to stand inches from the doctor's nose. Staring in the white of his eyes, he hissed with a commanding tone, "Listen doctor, you may be harbouring a fugitive from justice here. I demand to know the patient's name."

"Okay, okay!" Simmons capitulated, though with much reluctance. "I was told his name's H.M. Murdock and that's all the information we could gain from the woman who checked him in."

"Wait a minute, a woman? What was her name?"

"Doctor Kelly Stevens. She's a doctor in veterinarian medicine. She found Mister Murdock on her doorstep when he collapsed from exhaustion, she said."

"Is she still here?"

"I spoke to her less than two minutes ago. I told her to go home, though she might still be around here."

"Point her to me." Kelly stealthily snuck inside a utility room while Decker and Crane threaded on the doctor's heel to the waiting room. "She must have gone home."

"What does she look like?"

"Petite brunette, short hair, blue eyes." The doctor barely ended her depiction of the girl that Decker and Crane were dashing outside to catch their quarry. When they failed to spot a woman that remotely fitted the description, they returned inside where Decker instructed Crane to get one of his MPs to stand guard by Murdock's room.

"But why, Sir? Murdock isn't part of the A-Team as far as we know."

"That's where you're wrong, Crane. I have a strong hunch that he is very much a member of the team and that his buddies bust him out of the hospital every once in a while. I can't prove it but this situation here might be the bait I've been yearning for so long," Decker revelled in a tasty victory he saw within his reach.

When the coast was clear, Kelly crept out of her hideout, quickened the pace to the sliding doors, hurried down to her car and drove away into the night.

When she arrived at her home, she ran up to the door and unlocked it. She jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her shoulders.

"Sorry," Hannibal apologized.

"You scared the daylights outta me," she gasped, a hand over her heart thumping out of her chest. "Hurry, come inside."

"What's wrong? How's Murdock?"

"He's in the intensive care unit and still in critical condition. They don't know the full extent of his injuries at the moment. The next twenty-four hours will tell."

"Are you referring to possible brain damage?" Face asked worriedly, his face recoiling in dread at Kelly's dismal expression.

"He briefly regained consciousness when you guys left. He appeared disoriented and confused as to who you were and what his name was. But his speech was articulate so we can safely rule out any major impairment, save for a partial amnesia."

"Well that's encouraging news," Tawnia sighed with relief.

"There's more. While I was there, your friend Decker and his men swarmed the hospital looking for you."

"We knew he would."

"He knows that the patient is Murdock and when he asked the doctor who brought him to the hospital, he gave him my description. I jumped into my car and drove on. I don't believe I was followed. I assume there'll be a guard at your friend's room. If I go back to the hospital and try to enquire about Murdock's condition, they're going to know it's me and..."

"We know. We're sorry we got you into this in the first place, but you were our only hope of saving Murdock's life," Hannibal explained with a tinge of remorse.

"Don't apologize. I'd do it again if I had to. I was glad to help and I want to continue if I can. Besides, that Colonel Decker knows who I am now and no doubt he'll be looking for me. I can continue playing dumb and stick to the story. "

"Decker must suspect that Murdock is part of the team. Our secret weapon has been exposed," Face implied.

"Not necessarily. We shouldn't jump the gun. There's no solid evidence to link us to Murdock. He's been known to fly the coop once in a while, but who's to say he escapes to meet with us or that we're the ones who actually bust him out," Hannibal reasoned, glancing from one face to another to gauge the reaction.

"That's true," Face acknowledged, somewhat relieved. "Same goes for Kelly I suppose."

"But if she goes back to the hospital..." B.A. started only to have Hannibal interject.

"She's merely a Good Samaritan who wishes to check on a stranger's condition. It's likely that Decker will use every trick in the book to nail her into revealing she's been in contact with us, but," he turned to Kelly, "if she remains cool and plays her role right, she should do fine. Can you do that, sweetie?"

"Sure I can, but does this Colonel Decker have the authority to arrest me if he thinks I'm lying?"

"He might bring you in for questioning but if you stick to our story, he won't have anything on you. Therefore he'll have to let you go for lack of evidence."

Kelly nodded her understanding of the situation. "May I ask you a question, though?"

"Shoot!"

"Hannibal," B.A. scolded, "Bad choice of word, man!"

"Sorry."

"You mentioned about Murdock flying the coop and you breaking him out. What did you mean by that?"

Embarrassed Hannibal looked up at Face, equally ill-at-ease with the question.

"Murdock's address is the Veteran Hospital Psychiatric Ward and has been for the past ten years. The Vietnam war left many men psychologically scarred and some like Murdock lost it to a point where they had to be institutionalized. His mental health's improved since and his crazy antics are a defence mechanism to help him cope with everyday nuisance that might shake his psyche and cause a relapse."

"At first glance he didn't strike me as a man who lost his marbles, if you allow me the expression."

"Like I said he's doing a lot better now, hence the reason why we bust him outta of the VA whenever we need a good pilot on our missions. He's been known to get us out of jams, so he's not completely wacko as one might say." Hannibal turned to B.A. who was visibly struggling with his inner feelings.

"Yeah, guess the crazy fool ain't so nut after all. He just freaks me out when he starts talking to people that don't exist or see things that ain't there."

"Speaking of which, I expect once Murdock's condition improves, if it does, they'll transfer him back to the VA. It'll be a challenge trying to get to see him, as I suspect he'll be kept under twenty-four-hour surveillance," Face remarked forlornly to the team.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Hannibal stated with some annoyance that implied he wished not to consider that possibility.

"And Decker knows I'm with you guys, so if I try to see Murdock, Decker will put two and two together," Tawnia asserted. "Kelly on the other hand is still in the clear. The story is that Murdock collapsed on her doorstep. She doesn't know much of anything else about the man."

Silence ensued as inquisitive eyes darted from one face to the other seeking a miracle solution to this predicament. Finally, Kelly spoke up, "Guys, I'll do it. I'll go visit with him. But you'll need to take heed when you come to see me because your friend Decker is likely to keep a tight watch on my place."

"We're past masters on the art of avoiding Decker's traps and our unit always sticks together regardless of the odds. But with a wounded man in our midst it kinda throws a wrench in our escape plans. We couldn't leave Murdock to his fate and that's why Decker was able to catch up with us this time around."

"I'll go to the hospital in the morning to see how he's doing and I'll find a way to contact you afterwards."

"No! Let US contact YOU. Otherwise we'll risk jeopardizing all we've been fighting against," Hannibal counselled. "We'll be in touch but in our own way."

Once Kelly acquiesced to Hannibal's request, the team reiterated their gratitude toward the caring veterinarian and left. They climbed aboard the van and drove away to scour for a remote shelter where they could hide from Decker and his men until the morning.

* * *

Bright and early the next day, Kelly made the trip to the hospital to fulfill her promise to her new friends. Her throat constricted at the sight of the stone-faced MP stoically guarding the entrance of the ICU. Her step faltered as she approached the door but composed herself to follow through. "Excuse me, I'm here to see Mister Murdock."

"Sorry lady, no one's allowed in without proper authorization," the MP coldly informed.

"Oh, I see," the chastened woman replied. "Well where can I gain proper authorization?"

"Colonel Decker, ma'am."

"Where...where can I find this... Colonel Decker?" she stuttered nervously in spite of herself.

"Propably at the nurses' station."

"Thank you." Kelly traced back her steps and took a turn left. With an unsteady gait, she made her way to the nurses' station to enquire about the man she so desperately wanted to avoid at all cost.

One deep sigh later, Kelly stepped up to the head nurse to express her wish to visit with the patient with whom she felt a deep connexion. The smock-clad lady picked up the phone and dialed. "Colonel Decker, sir, someone here is asking to see Mister Murdock." With a piercing eye, she gave the anxious brunette a quick but thorough once-over while listening to Decker's instructions. "Okay, will do." She hung up and directed Kelly to the waiting room. "Colonel Decker will be right with you."

"Thank you," Kelly answered bashfully before turning toward the waiting room where all would hopefully play out according to plan. Hannibal's well-crafted scenario was already unfolding in her mind, setting the stage for her grand performance as the innocent bystander.

"Well, well little lady," Decker taunted. "I was told you wanted to visit with H.M. Murdock?"

"That's...that's right," Kelly gulped at the daunting figure before her.

"What do you know of that man?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing other than his name."

"Why do you want to see him then? He's a stranger, isn't he?" he proceeded to probe deeper, hoping to shatter the tough armour she appeared to have erected around herself. Decker sensed she knew more than she let on, but he had to find her Achilles' heel if he was to compel her to remove the veil.

"Yes he is, but I did save his life and I feel a certain responsibility."

"Doctors are not supposed to get emotionally involved with their patients."

"This is different."

"How so?" Decker countered.

Decker's insolence was a pick slowly hewing away at her resilience to carry out her role. Swiftly she picked up the chipped ice of her armour and patched up the damaged shell with a deep, resolute sigh. "Colonel please, I want to make sure he's alright, that's all. Right now I don't rightly care about the man's past, present or future, I merely wish to check up on him."

Seconds passed as Decker scanned the assertive woman from head to toe. It was obvious he was standing in the presence of a formidable adversary. Her delicate, almost frail appearance and apparent gullibility didn't fool him. He needed to approach her with caution and cut her some slack in order to reap his reward later.

"You may go," he conceded, knowing his good deed would undeniably earn him the woman's respect and arguably, a confession of guilt in having willingly harboured fugitives, his most sought-after quarry: the A-Team.

Decker escorted her to the entrance of the ICU to usher her into the room where Murdock slept soundly. The dimlit room was quiet, save for the constant rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, which oddly enough, proved to be a sweet melody to Kelly's ears. Albeit alone to visit with the patient, she was aware that prying ears were sharply focused and therefore held her tongue in revealing anything that might otherwise be used against her.

"Hey there, stranger," she whispered sweetly with a warm fetching smile. "I'm glad to see you're still among us. I don't know if you have any family or friends out there," she affected with a knowing grin hidden from Decker she sensed was listening by the door, "but I'm sure they must be worried sick about you."

"He doesn't have anyone. His only family is the personnel at the Veteran Hospital Psych Ward," Decker informed upon entering the room.

Without unfastening her eyes from the patient, she addressed the nuisance calmly and solemnly, "When he came to me he was grievously injured and near death from an infected gunshot wound. Would you know who did this to him?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

"I told you I don't know anything other than his name."

"You said he collapsed on your doorstep and was unconscious the whole time you were treating him. So how would you know his name if he didn't tell you himself?"

"I did mention that he briefly regained consciousness before the ambulance arrived. I was able to question him on that."

"You also said that he was confused about who he was. Possible amnesia?" A malevolent grin crept upon his lips as he sensed that the woman was crumbling before him. "Look Doctor Stevens, why don't you make this easy on yourself and level with me."

Incensed at the remark, she swung around angrily and glowered at the man who stood defiantly and undisturbed by her glaring annoyance. Quite the contrary, he was rather enjoying his triumph at having shaken the foundation of her confidence. "Colonel Decker with all due respect I am a bit annoyed at your insinuation that I might be privy to some secret information that this man holds. I told you I don't know anything," she spewed out between teeth clenched in suppressed fury. "Please, I'm just here to see if this man's going to be alright."

"According to his doctor, he will be."

Kelly's anger melted into a cheering laugh. "That's good."

"As soon as he gains enough strength they'll be transferring him back to the VA hospital."

"So there's no brain damage?"

"Apparently not, but he does have amnesia and therefore he couldn't tell us his name." Decker delighted in Kelly's reaction to the diagnosis. She was getting entangled into his deftly-knitted trap with the lie she carried on her conscience, and he wondered how she would manage to wriggle herself out of this ambush.

Surprisingly, the moth broke free of the web with an unrehearsed explanation that Decker couldn't refute. His face hardened at the content mug staring back at him, and he left the room a beaten man...for now.

He sought Crane out to instruct him to put a tail on Dr. Stevens the minute she left the premises. "She knows more than she lets on. I'm convinced she will lead us to the A-Team," he crowed maliciously.

Back in Murdock's room, Kelly tentatively reached for the patient's hand, hesitating as to whether it would be proper behaviour to cradle it into her own, seeing as he was a total stranger. She delicately placed the hand in her palm and stared at it for a while before gently squeezing it, hoping to elicit a response out of him. Sadly none came. She then lifted her eyes to gaze at the patient' face, taking in the fine features that were so puzzlingly endearing to her. Her loving smile gradually changed into a deep concerned frown at the ashen complexion and sunken cheeks that were ominous signs of a deteriorating condition , thus contradicting Decker's earlier prognosis. Was she dramatizing the circumstances or was her medical instincts inkling her of a dire fate for the man with whom she was intensely infatuated?

She delicately brushed a hand against his cheeks that still felt warm to the touch. She glanced up at the monitor and observed a slight elevated temperature. The vital readings weren't as encouraging as she originally thought. She dropped Murdock's hand and hurried out of the room to the nurses' station.

"Excuse me, is Doctor Simmons around by any chance? I need to speak to him regarding the patient in ICU room 2."

"Mister Murdock? Something wrong?" the nurse asked suspiciously.

"I'm concerned about his vitals."

"He's still critical but stable at the moment. He hasn't regained consciousness and until he does there's no way of anticipating which way it will go,"

Kelly's eyes widened in shock at the disturbing news. "But I was told he was going to be fine."

"I don't know who told you that. His condition has somewhat improved in the last twenty-four hours, but there's a battery of tests we need to conduct before we can issue a firm prognosis. Right now it's touch-and-go."

"Thank you." Kelly's face scrunched up as anger began simmering beneath the surface. She scanned the room in search of her prey. Once in her crosshairs, she marched up to him and seethed, "You lied to me!"

"I beg your pardon?" Decker answered nonchalantly.

"You said that Murdock was going to be alright but that's not what I was told."

"I guess I merely wanted to gauge your reaction, Doctor Stevens," he taunted. "You seem to be very attached to this man, as though you've known him for quite some time. I believe you know more than you care to admit."

"Why are you are doing this to me?" she lashed out, exasperated. "I told you before I'm just an innocent bystander who saved a man's life. Get off my case!" she huffed.

"I can't Miss Stevens. Not until I can safely rule out any involvement you might have with the A-Team."

"A-Team, A-Team, A-Team, I never heard of the A-Team! I don't know who they are!" she ferociously denied, her outburst having no impact on the Colonel's bearing who displayed no sign of unrelenting.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Dr. Simmons walking up to the nurses' station with a medical chart in hand. She strode up to him to ask the dreaded question. "Doctor Simmons. Remember me? Kelly Stevens?"

"Of course Doctor Stevens. You're here to see Mister Murdock?"

"I've been to see him already," she said, motioning to Decker standing a few feet away, "Colonel Decker gave me permission to visit with him. Tell me doctor, the truth...is he going to be alright?"

"We won't know the extent of the damage until he regains consciousness."

"Notwithstanding possible brain impairment, is he gaining any strength from the blood transfusion? Were you able to drain the infection? I just came to see him, his complexion looked ashen and drawn, and his temperature was a bit high."

"I can assure you that he's making some progress. I had his medical record transferred from Veteran Hospital in order to outline the right course of treatment for him without risking any fatal drug interaction. He has been prescribed medication, hence the reason why it's taking a bit longer for his vitals to stabilize to a normal level. We're proceeding with caution in this case." He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He's in good hands, don't worry. We're checking up on his condition every thirty minutes seeing as he's still listed on the critical list."

"So there's still a possibility he might not make it?" Kelly queried worriedly.

"Right now, I'd say it's sixty-forty," Dr. Simmons informed dismally.

"Thank you, doctor. I'll try to come and see him later."

"I could ask Colonel Decker to grant you permanent access to his room?"

"I'd appreciate that. Thank you."

Kelly cast one last longing glance in direction of Murdock's room and left the hospital. The woeful woman walked over to her car and drove away. In her rear-view mirror, she could see a car tailing her and figured it was one of Decker's men.

"Kelly, what have you gotten yourself into, girl? You've always lived a plain and staid life. Why is this happening to you? I don't know how much more I can take," she sighed heavily, her heart aching for a man who's part of a gang of fugitives from justice that she easily befriended. "This isn't like you."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Leaden eyelids heavily fluttered open to reveal glazed brown orbs that struggled to peer through the thick mist. A blank stare remained fastened on the ceiling above before risking a glance around the room. Murdock blinked away the haze to establish focus on the unfamiliar surroundings, brows knitting in puzzlement as to where he was.

"Well, look who's awake?" a feminine voice enthused. Without moving his head, he lazily swivelled his eyes to the left to see a charming young nurse smiling at him. "Can you hear me Mister Murdock?"An impassive stare and weighty blink were her answer. The faraway expression in the vacuous eyes filled her with a sense of foreboding that their worse fear was confirmed.

She paged Doctor Simmons who minutes later, rushed into the room to begin his preliminary exam of the patient, starting with the corneal reflexes.

"I'm Doctor Simmons. Do you understand me?" Murdock closed his eyes and nodded weakly. "That's good. I'm going to ask you a couple of questions and I would...no, no, no, no, no, don't do that! You must stay awake now."

The simplest task of keeping his eyes open proved to be a gargantuan effort on Murdock's part. His numbed mind cajoled him into a seemingly peaceful slumber and at the same time, raged war against the doctor's constant finger snapping and gentle slaps on the cheeks to keep him from falling into oblivion.

"Mrister Murdock, look at me." Simmons waited for the patient to acknowledge his request before holding a finger in front of Murdock's eyes. "Follow my finger now." The weary gaze fastened on the finger and followed it from left to right, much to the doctor's relief. "Can you tell me your name?" Brows slightly knitted at the question. "Can you talk?"

Murdock swallowed hard before he whispered, "Wa...water."

Dr. Simmons poured a small glass of water from the pitcher and sliding a hand at the back of Murdock's neck to hold it steady, he placed the rim to his lips. "Easy now, tiny sips." When done, he eased back the head on the pillow. "Now bear with me for a few minutes for I have a few questions to ask you. First, your name. Do you remember your name?" the answer came in the form of a confused look. "Okay, do you know what happened to you? Any detail?"

Murdock's muddled brain roamed back in time and homed in on a particular pleasant experience. "Angel," he breathed out unemotionally, causing Simmons and his nurse to exchanged puzzled frowns. "Saw angel."

"Is he awake?" Decker asked commandingly as he came barging in. "Good, then I can ask him a few questions."

"Colonel Decker, I wish you would wait outside and let me conduct the examination with my patient," Dr. Simmons scowled, glaring at the obstinate Army man whose untimely entrance, he dreaded, could cause more harm than good.

The high-ranking browbeating colonel impudently brushed the doctor aside to lean over his coveted quarry. "Murdock, you recognize me?" a blank expression stared back at him. "Don't play dumb with me. You know perfectly who I am. "

"That's enough!" Simmons seethed.

"Look at him! He's playing us for fools, you can see it in his eyes."

"Please Colonel, I want you to leave this room right now," the doctor fumed. "This is my patient and in this hospital I have jurisdiction over you. Don't make me call security because believe me, I will not hesitate to have you bodily removed from the premises if you do not comply."

Undeterred, Decker squared his shoulders in a defiant look that failed to intimidate the doctor who retaliated with a scowl of his own. "I don't want anyone under foot while I conduct a thorough examination of this patient, is that clear?"

"Very clear doctor, but we'll be around."

"I'm sure you will," Simmons retorted, shooting daggers at the Colonel's retreating back. Then he turned to his amused nurse, and growled, "That guy pisses me off."

"You're not the only one."

"That...that man," Murdock heaved out hoarsely, then licked his lips before breathing out the next question, "What...what d'he want?"

"You don't recognize him?"

"Should I?"

"Apparently he knows you well. Wants to ask you questions about the A-Team?"

"A...A-Team?" Murdock stuttered weakly between breaths.

"That's what he said."

Murdock shook his head heavily and swallowed hard. "Don't know any A-Team."

"Well that's not important for the moment. Our main concern is to get you back on your feet"

"What...what hap..." Murdock struggled, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to summon his memory of why he awoke in a hospital.

"What happened?" the doctor finished for him. "They brought you in an ambulance. You were near death from an infected shoulder wound and lack of blood."

"How...?"

"We were hoping you could enlighten us for no one was able to tell us how you ended up this way. At some point your temperature hovered at 105 and you even went into cardiac arrest."

"Confused. I can't..." Murdock slowly became restless by his failure to recall any detail about the shooting. As hard as he tried to cudgel his brain, he would draw a complete blank. He suddenly felt alone and isolated, unfounded fears gradually crept up his spine, chilling him to the bone. "Please," he whimpered, tilting his head to the side, "Want to be left alone."

"Okay," Simmons acknowledged. "I'll let you be for a while but I'll be back later to conduct more tests for you've been unconscious for over seventy hours."

"Yeah, whatever," he answered impassively, staring out the window.

The doctor summoned his nurse out of the room. "See if you can get me Doctor Harris."

"The psychiatrist?"

"Yes. My educated guess tells me we're going to need him to consult on this case."

"Right away, Doctor."

* * *

The ringtone startled her out of sleep. Her eyes shot open and she rolled over to her left to grab the phone on her nightstand. "Hello," she answered groggy.

"Doctor Stevens? It's Doctor Simmons. Sorry to be calling you so late but I just wanted to inform you that Mister Murdock came to about an hour ago."

She excitedly flung the covers aside and swung her legs on the floor. "That's wonderful news," she enthused. "How is he?"

"Physically he's doing better than expected. His vitals have stabilized and he's no longer on the critical list. In fact should his condition continue to improve, we'll be moving him into a regular room tomorrow."

She huffed out a sigh of relief, squeezing her eyes shut to wring out the tears of relief. "What about..." her voice faltered at the dreaded question, "what about brain damage? Were you able to determine how extensive it was, if any?"

"A neurosurgeon was called to conduct a preliminary examination and he concluded that Mister Murdock is merely suffering from amnesia. Total or partial? Now that remains to be determined upon further assessment."

"So he doesn't know who he is or where he comes from?"

"No, nor does he remember who shot him or why. We're bringing in a psychiatrist, Doctor Harris, hoping he can help Mister Murdock tap into his memory and thus shed some light on the matter. But at the moment I can assure you that he's resting well."

"That's good news Doctor Simmons. I appreciate your calling me to let me know. I should be in to see him tomorrow."

"I rather you wouldn't, at least not until Doctor Harris has seen him."

"Oh, okay. I understand" Kelly replied dejectedly. "I'll wait until you say it's alright to visit. Oh and doctor, can you tell me if that Colonel Decker is still roaming the halls at the hospital?"

"That man is unrelenting. He just won't go away. I even had to kick him out of Mister Murdock's room because he was badgering him, something about the A-Team."

"I can imagine. Okay Doctor, I'll wait to hear from you and...thank you."

"You get some sleep. I'll keep you informed."

No sooner had Kelly placed the receiver back in its cradle that she slid on her slippers and donned her night robe to slink down the hall to the basement entrance. She switched on the light and crept down the stairs. She then squatted down in the middle of the room and removed the carpet covering a trap door upon which she knocked five times. She waited and repeated the code. Finally, the top was lifted and out peered a bleary face. "Kelly? What time is it?" Face asked, yawning his head off.

"It's close to midnight. I just had to tell you that Murdock regained consciousness over an hour ago. The doctor is confident he'll pull thru. Their only concern is the amnesia."

"Amnesia?" Hannibal exclaimed, pushing Face aside to mount the ladder all the way up. "Did he say how bad?"

"They can't tell yet whether it's partial or total. But he can't recall his name or what happened to him."

"Amnesia," Hannibal sighed dolefully, as he slid into a sitting position next to Kelly. "Now that could be a problem."

"What are you talking about, Hannibal?" Face wondered puzzlingly. "Decker can't get any information out of him."

"Not necessarily. If it turns out to be partial amnesia, Murdock may be incapable of distinguishing between what he can or cannot blurt out."

"Namely us?"

"You got it. We're treading on dangerous grounds, here."

"By the way, are you comfy down there?" Kelly asked, speaking to all four.

"It could us a feminine's touch but otherwise we're fine," Tawnia jested to undermine the fact that all four were living in crude lodgings.

"I'm sorry, the cellar is definitely not the best accommodation, but it is safe."

"That's right and believe me, this is a palace compared to some of the places we've crashed in. Besides we get to sleep inside without risking to get caught and by the same token, getting you into trouble for harbouring fugitives," Hannibal stated, fashioning a grateful smile at the pretty brunette.

"Unfortunately I was asked not to visit with Murdock until the psychiatrist has had a chance to talk to him."

"A shrink?" Face exclaimed. "Did they say they'd be transferring him to the VA Hospital?"

"No, Doctor Simmons didn't mention it, just that Murdock might be taken to a regular room tomorrow if his condition improved. The psychiatrist will consult with him there."

"I don't like this, Hannibal," B.A. expressed with a voice dripping with concern. "The crazy fool's liable to lead Decker to us."

"Our hands are tied at the moment. All we can do is hope that Murdock has retained some sense as to keep his mouth shut. Moreover, he doesn't know where to find us. But in any case, let's keep our eyes and ears open."

* * *

Given his fragile state of mind and his history of mental problems, Murdock was transferred to the hospital psychiatric wing where Dr. Harris set up his first session with the troubled patient.

Since regaining consciousness seven days ago, Murdock remained aloof of the events happening around him. He had gradually withdrawn within himself, either lying in bed or sitting in a chair and blankly staring out the window. He exhibited no sign of breaking out of this impassiveness that had shaped his shelter against the outside world.

One morning as Murdock was sprawled on his bed, his languid expression facing the window, Dr. Harris entered the room and made his way to his patient to make the introductions.

"Mister Murdock, my name is Doctor Bryce Harris, I'm a psychiatrist who was asked to speak with you."

A few seconds cascaded down before Murdoch asked apathetically, "What for?"

"To talk about what might be troubling you."

"How do I know what's troubling me when I can't even remember," Murdoch scoffed, without disengaging his blank stare from the window.

"Well I'd like to attempt to unlock those memories if I can," Harris offered as he took a seat by the bed.

"Maybe I don't want you to," the patient issued threateningly.

"Am I to assume from that slight sarcasm that there's something you don't wish to evoke?" The gloomy face flinched at the forthright remark, confirming that the doctor's observation had hit a nerve. "I'm here to help you; not to judge you."

A bone-chilling wind drifted through the tense-fraught room as Murdock slowly turned his head and sank it into the pillow. No word was spoken as he stared at the ceiling and pondered whether to entrust this stranger with his innermost thought. "Am I a murderer?


	4. Chapter 4

The startling question caught the doctor unawares. "Why would you ask that?"

"I've been experiencing horrific nightmares for the past few days," Murdock began falteringly, his muddle brain still swimming in murky waters.

"Nightmares?" The doctor frowned, sliding his chair closer to the bed. "What are they about?"

"I walk around and all I see is dead bodies strewing the ground. Some are mutilated beyond recognition," he choked out, his eyes bulging out in horror at the scene unfolding in his mind.

"I...I try to get away and I run and run but I can't shake them. There are too many of them and they keep dropping from the sky with a loud thump." He cringed at the vivid vision of the hecatomb, swallowing hard at the overwhelming emotions threatening to engulf him. "They beg me to help them. Their wailing pleas are deafening. They drive me insane. I just...I just don't know what that means, doctor."

"You are obviously reliving your past involvement in the Vietnam War."

"I was in a war?" Murdock asked in utter shock.

"Yes. Rank of Captain. You were a pilot in charge of flying the wounded soldiers to base camp. Up until recently you were treated for symptoms of regression. You were prone to serious bouts of depression."

"Then why do I have a weapon in my hand?"

"A weapon?"

"Yes. When I look down I see I'm holding an automatic rifle. I get sick at the thought that perhaps those soldiers fell on the battlefield under my own bullets," he quavered with a voice strangled by emotions.

"According to your Army record, you were wounded twice. You might have shot that rifle of yours once or twice in self-defence."

Murdock closed his eyes in despair and sighed out dejectedly, "I can't remember."

"Maybe it's just as well that you don't. Those memories are best kept buried within you for the time being anyway. For now we need to address the present."

"I don't know anything," Murdock answered with a dash of exasperation. "I don't even know my own name. You keep referring to me as Murdock but...that name doesn't mean anything to me. You mind as well call me John Smith for all I care!"

Dr. Harris noticed the reaction in Murdock's eyes at the mention of that alias. "What?"

"Nothing," Murdock dismissed, though disturbed by the weird feeling that name stirred up in him. He couldn't determined whether it was a good or bad omen.

* * *

"Colonel Decker, sir, perhaps we're following the wrong lead. The girl is obviously clear as far as we can tell," Crane reasoned with an incensed Decker, obsessed on pursuing his quest.

"She knows the A-Team and Murdock is a member of that gang. You heard what that psychiatrist said about Murdock blurting out the name of John Smith? As in Hannibal Smith? I'm so close to nailing them I can taste it. I have my two baits and I just need to wield a little more patience. I'll hook them eventually and when I do, I'm going to relish the feel of reeling them in," he revelled in his own victory, salivating at the mouth at the thought of bringing in the big fish.

"So what now?"

"The girl is bound to come and visit Murdock again once the shrink gives the ok. He's desperate for answers as to why he landed in this hospital and I bet she'll be too willing to provide him...and us... with all the details," he smiled wickedly.

* * *

His nights were now beleaguered by morbid nightmares that drained him physically and mentally. He dreaded closing his eyes for fear of the horrific visions of dying soldiers reaching out to him with mangled limbs and screeching wails would return to haunt him. He fought against the effect of the powerful sedative they would inject him to avoid falling into that dark abyss that engulfed him in a putrid stench of death.

All the same, they would find a way to sneak up on him, sometimes popping up during his daydreaming periods. The walls were closing in, squeezing him into a tight corner, sucking the air out of the room. He felt trapped, his mind suffocating, pacing the length of his cage in search of breathing space narrowing by the hour. He had to get away, to break out of this dungeon tightening its stranglehold on the speck of sanity he still had left.

Two weeks had flown by since Murdock was first wheeled into the ER in critical condition and respiratory distress. Owing to the Captain's strong constitution, the dire forecast issued at his admission progressively shifted to an encouraging prospect of recovery. Yet, one problem subsisted: his mental instability, which they observed to be increasingly unsettling.

To palliate this problem, Doctor Harris considered another angle, which was the 'angel' Murdoch kept referring during his sessions. Harris assumed that Kelly Stevens fitted the description of this angelic vision and thus allowed her to visit the patient, with hopes that it might trigger a constructive reaction that would eventually help unleash the dark memories with which Murdoch had been struggling.

That morning, an anxious Kelly spruced herself up to drive to the hospital after days of being denied visiting rights at the psychiatrist's advice. The A-Team members were still bunking in her home-office basement, cleverly tucked away underneath the concrete floor. Granted, not the finest lodgings, but it made for good shelter against the armada of bloodthirsty military scavengers sniffing out their preys in every corner the city.

Decker knew that the herd would stick close to the injured sheep, rendering them vulnerable and susceptible to commit mistakes, as they try to seek out their wounded friend. He could pick up their scent wafting in the air, relishing the feel of knowing they were wandering about, waiting for news on their comrade in arms and that Kelly Stevens was undeniably their emissary.

"Doctor Stevens, thank you for coming," Dr. Harris greeted at his office door.

"I was told at admission that you wanted to see me?"

"Yes. Please sit down." He ushered her into the office and beckoned her to take a seat.

Kelly took notice of the psychiatrist's forlorn expression and frowned suspiciously. "Something wrong with Murdoch?"

He sat in his chair and leaned forward on his desk. With a fraught -laden sigh he locked eyes with her and spoke solemnly. "I hate to say we're not making any progress. Contrariwise, his mental state appears to be worsening with each session I attend with him. He is withdrawing within himself, regressing into the past, not so much by choice, but by some guilt that he seems to be carrying inside, and I can't break that spell. It has a powerful hold on him and is progressively dragging him down. But I believe you may be the one to throw him that lifeline that he can cling to."

"Well...I don't...how do you mean?" she asked stutteringly, confused as to what the doctor expected of her.

"He keeps referring to an angel he saw during his delirium. At first I assumed it was a fever-induced hallucination; however his vision matches your description, Miss Stevens. He's in no doubt referring to you. You said he did briefly regain consciousness when you tended to him at your office."

"Yes he did, but he was pretty out of it."

" Well he does remember seeing you. Whenever he speaks of you, his eyes literally light up. There's a spark of life, however dim and fleeting it might be, it's there. You are unequivocally the angel of mercy he's seeking to help wrench him out of the beast's clutches and eventually, his salvation."

"Me?" Kelly gulped, flattered by the compliment and yet frightened at the colossal undertaking she fears will befall her. Was she up to the task of bringing a total stranger out of his torpor? Would it backfire on her and wind up being instrumental in pushing him further down the path of self-destruction? "I...I don't think I can handle that responsibility Doctor Harris."

"You want to see him get well, don't you?"

"Well...euh...yeah...I guess," she hemmed and hawed, caught unawares by the straightforward argument thrust at her. "But you must understand that Mister Murdock is a stranger to me. I've never met him before. I don't know anything about him. How can I ultimately help him?"

"We'll see how he responds to you first and we'll take it from there. Shall we?" he requested, gesturing to follow him out the door.

They made their way to Murdock's room with Kelly feeling apprehensive at the sight of the stone-faced guard posted at the door. Dr. Harris held a hand up as instruction to wait by the door while he primed the patient for her visit.

Harris baulked at the empty bed, but figured Murdock was in the bathroom and traced back his steps. He knocked on the door. "Mister Murdock, are you in there?" he asked, not getting an answer. "Mister Murdock, are you all right?" he insisted, an uneasy awareness suddenly creeping over him. He turned the knob and slowly pushed open the bathroom door.

"Oh no." Harris uttered in shock before hurrying out of the room. "You!" he hailed the guard by the door. "Did you see the patient leaving this room?"

"No Doctor. What's the matter?"

"Mister Murdock is not in his room."

"What? I wouldn't know anything about that. I just relieved the other MP about twenty minutes ago," he said defensively.

Harris with Kelly following close behind strode up to the nurses' station. "Has any of you seen Mister Murdock?"

"He's not in his room?" replied one of the nurses on duty.

" I just checked. He's not."

"He's probably walking around somewhere."

"I specifically requested that he'd be confined to his room until I instructed otherwise."

"I'm sorry Doctor Harris, but Doctor Simmons said it was all right."

"I'M Murdock's doctor in this ward, NOT Doctor Simmons. Why wasn't I told about this?" he seethed, simmer eyes darting the chastened nurses. "We need to find him, quick! He's not well enough to be out there on his own," he stressed, whipping the nurses into action.

"How could he just walk up and leave? Especially with a guard at his door?" Kelly questioned as she found it hard to fathom that possibility in this secured ward.

"Hopefully he's still in the hospital. I'll check with security."

* * *

Once notified of Murdock's disappearance, Decker collared the MP on guard duty that night for his testimony of what had transpired in that room minutes before the patient's flight. Was the young officer fibbing when he steadfastly claimed seeing or hearing nothing out of the ordinary, nor that Murdock was seen wandering out in the hall? Decker suspected the sly Captain had cleverly orchestrated his escape by seizing the MP's short restroom break to furtively slink out of his room and steal away.

But sadly, it was later established from the evidence of blood smears on the pavement below Murdock's room that the disturbed soul had indeed managed to jump out the window.

Decker showed up at the hospital in an uproar, casting blame on the hospital staff for their lack of patient supervision.

"How could this happen? Aren't there supposed to be barred windows in the nut ward?" he spewed out at the psychiatrist who took offence and fired bwith the same vehemence.

"Colonel Decker, I can vouch that Mister Murdock never exhibited suicidal tendencies. Aside from a partial amnesia and recurring nightmares, he was lucid and aware of his surroundings."

"Given the circumstances, that was clearly a wrong diagnosis. This man was certified insane and treated at the VA psych ward before he landed in your care, doctor!" Decker stressed on a waspish tone.

"I'm aware of his record of paranoid anxiety delusions and intermittent memory loss, Colonel, and believe me those disorders were seriously taken into account during my sessions with him," he emphasized with great emotional restraint. "But he was not deemed dangerous to others or to himself, therefore he was not held in restraints. Incidentally that could have aggravated his condition." Brows knitted as a wave of suspicion washed over Dr. Harris' face at the sudden realization that Decker or his men could have goaded Murdock into committing this unthinkable act. "Unless you or someone from your team pushed him to the edge?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Doctor!" Decker scorned, turning to Crane to avert the doctor's scrutinizing glare.

"I don't mean physically, but your constant grilling about the A-Team could have had its toll and pushed him over the edge. Coercing an amnesiac's brain into recalling facts that he's not ready for can be fatal, particularly when he's in a fragile state of mind, like Mister Murdock was."

"Doctor, allow me to doubt your assumption that Murdock was as you say, fragile. It was plain to see he was faking it," Decked asserted with a passionate conviction.

"Then you're a better psychiatrist than I am," Harris retorted resentfully.

"In that capacity, perhaps I am." he gloated, grinning with contempt. "I'm familiar with how these guys think and move. I've trained many of them. Their mouths say one thing but their eyes tell a different story. Now I've been patient and indulging you because of your authority on this ward, but your pussyfooting around has cost me to lose a highly valuable thespian in this cat-and-mouse game, possibly the missing link I need to reel in the gang."

"Your obsession may have cost that man's sanity, possibly his life!" Harris condemned, glowering disdainfully at Decker who dismissed the comment with a smirk.

"He knows I'm hunting his teammates down and that I won't relent until I catch each and every one of them."

"I wish to God you don't!" Harris spat between clenched teeth before leaving.

The A-team was stuck in his claw. Decker could smell them a mile away but could never get close enough to sink his fangs into them. He had cried victory too soon the last time he held them in his clutches but once again, they had managed to slip through his fingers.


	5. Chapter 5

_**This is one part that might be a little rough...especially for Murdoch fans. You've been forwarned.**_

"What? Murdock escaped?" Hannibal bellowed at Kelly's news.

"They looked everywhere for him. Nobody's seen him leave the hospital. They assume that he escaped through the window, but..."

"But what?" Face insisted.

"His room was on the third floor. It's a long way down. But they figure he could have climbed down the drain pipe alongside the wall and jumped the rest of the way."

"Isn't there supposed to be bars on the windows?" Tawnia queried.

"No, not in that particular ward. The patients there aren't considered dangerous or suicidal." Kelly hung her head as she pondered whether or not to share the piece of evidence that was found, which substantiates the theory of a jump.

"Girl, what is it you're not telling us here?" B.A. probed, sensing Kelly was forbearing from revealing crucial information about Murdock's flight.

"They found traces of blood on the pavement below," she educed with a forlorn expression.

"If he's injured then he mustn't have gotten very far," Face surmised, glancing at Hannibal who was already cogitating on a plan.

"Where do you think he could have gone?" Tawnia asked.

"I don't know. In the state he's in, I don't think he knows where he's going either. He can't go far on foot that's for sure, not if he's hurt."Hannibal opined, frowning worriedly at the Captain's startling shift in personality.

"The crazy fool's out there all alone and most likely hurt," B.A. stated with a slight quaver in his voice, obviously wrestling with his inner feelings for Murdock. "I had a bad feeling about that place. Decker roving about and all those shrinks messing with his head. Nothing good could come of it."

"He was dying, B.A.. What else could we do?" Face reasoned with the grief-stricken hulk.

"Yeah, I know," B.A. conceded, though without relinquishing his belief that this situation could have somehow been prevented.

"What I'd like to know is what or who could have made Murdock snap like that?" Face asked a bit puzzled by his friend's erratic behaviour.

"Kelly says the psychiatrist who's been treating Murdock told her he was suffering from bouts of depression and recurrent nightmares," Hannibal reiterated.

"We've all had those nightmares, Hannibal. We went through the spells of depression ourselves, but not to the point of leaping down a building three stories up. Murdock knows that'd be suicide." Silence ensued as a grim thought crossed his mind. "Could someone have pushed him out? " Face speculated, scanning all faces in the room to gouge their reactions to his theory.

"Who would have a motive for killing him?" Hannibal argued.

"Decker?" Tawnia suggested bashfully as pure conjecture. "To bring us out of hiding?"

"Nah, Decker may be a scum with a vendetta but even him wouldn't resort to murder," Face rebuffed, albeit with some lingering reservations.

"One thing's for sure, we need to find him quick. If he did jump out that window by himself, he must be powerfully disturbed. We'll need to proceed with extreme vigilance for Decker knows we'll be actively looking for Murdock and with a wounded in our mist, there's a chance we could act irrationally and commit a costly mistake. So let's watch our backs. He caught up with us once and I'll be dammed if I'm gonna give him a second chance."

"Right," Face agreed with Hannibal's word of caution.

"I want to come with you," Kelly announced resolutely. "I might be able to help if he's hurt."

"I prefer you remain here with Tawnia in case Murdock shows up. If he does remember you he might seek you out."

"On foot?" Tawnia mocked. "Hannibal, we're long ways from the hospital."

"I know but we shouldn't underestimate Murdock's resourcefulness, even if he's off his trolley. He may surprise us."

* * *

The threatening grey clouds hovering above had finally burst, unleashing a downpour that soaked Murdock to the bone. Favoring his left side that had broken his fall at the hospital, he slouched over to a giant spruce underneath which he curled up, knees to his chin, and waited for the storm to pass.

How he wished he had totted his protective 'blanket' with him when uncontrollable shivers suddenly seized him. "Jacket?" he croaked, baffled by the fact that he would recall the cherished frayed coat. "Shoulda brought my jacket," he chastised himself as he wrapped his arms tightly around his waist in an attempt to quell the shivers but instead, wound up exacerbating his injury in the process. He pursed his lips and gritted his teeth in excruciating pain, cursing the grisly fate that he had involuntarily brought upon himself. With a wavering hand, he proceeded to lift his shirt to assess the extent of his injury. He cringed at the sight of the fiery red blotch lining the side of his abdomen. With two fingers, he gently prodded the wound, which angrily responded with a searing twinge that radiated down to his toes. Although he was freezing, his stomach felt abnormally warm and hard to the touch.

Leaden glassy eyes dropped in despair as he strove to evoke the circumstances leading to this predicament. His mind was in shambles; the disarray prevented any source of enlightenment to filter through the dark recesses that kept him in total confusion. He slowly reached up to his left eyebrow where he traced a deep gash with caked blood, no doubt a result from his fall.

The cloudburst might have dwindled to a light drizzle, still the wave of tremors racking his sluggish body didn't show any sign of receding. Chilled to the core with the occasional bouts of wheezing cough, Murdoch hauled himself to his feet and drifted onward through the treacherous woods in a desperate search of a shelter.

The limp became debilitating to a point where he slumped to the ground, completely drained. Huffing and puffing, he garnered the last speck of energy remaining to heave himself up on all four. He sluggishly lifted his heavy head and laboured to focus on mentally tracing a path forwards, thus stirring his dormant resilience back into motion.

Squaring his shoulders in determination, he cracked the whip at his self-pity and proceeded to pursue his objective, which paid off down the road. Through a blurry vision, he spotted a small decrepit shack that at first glance appeared abandoned.

"Captain, watch your back!" He swirled at the sound of that faint warning.

"Who…who said that?" Murdock cried out as he frantically scanned his surroundings. "Who's there?" Holding his breath, he mentally tuned out the background noise to concentrate on the mysterious voice. "Show yourself!"

The rain stopped, giving way to a portentous silence that chillingly crept up his spine. He let out a cough that triggered another painful spasm in his stomach. He paused to catch his breath, then pressed on toward the seemingly sanctuary, on his guard still for any entity that may be lurking in the shadows.

Recalling the mysterious voice cautioning him to keep alert, Murdock threaded lightly to the front porch and peeked through the window to spy anyone inside. He then rounded the corner to the side of the cabin and assessed all the rooms, which appeared bare of any living soul. He retraced his steps and gingerly pushed open the creaking door. He slid his way inside and closed the door behind him. He broke out in goose bumps at that eerie setting that greeted him and for some reason, the walls seemed to be closing him on him but he brushed the vision aside to crawl into the sofa where he laid, unmoving. His eyes glazed over with a veil of hopelessness as he slowly closed them to catch forty winks. He coiled into a foetal position, arms embracing his body to keep warm as he allowed sleep to claim him.

* * *

"We've got to keep looking, Hannibal," B.A. seethed, irate by the leader's decision to call it a night.

"And we will, at first light tomorrow morning," Hannibal appeased with a calming hand on the big brutha's shoulder. "We can't do anything more tonight. Those woods are pitch dark and we have no idea where Murdock might be hiding. It'll be futile to go on blind."

"I hate to say it but Hannibal's right," Face approved, cringing slightly at the withering glare threatening him to clam up. "Well he is!" Face defended. "It could be dangerous and we won't do Murdock any good if we kill ourselves looking for him."

"And what about the crazy fool who's out there hurt and surely scared out of his wits? He must think we abandoned him."

"The doctor said he didn't remember any of us."

"I don't give a rat's ass what the shrink said," B.A. bellowed. "We need to find him quick!" B.A. stressed, angrily tightening the steering wheel as she kept the van moving down the road.

"B.A. I want you to stop the van at the next diner. I'll go get us something to eat and then we'll find a remote spot and hide the van out of plain sight for the night," Hannibal instructed calmly but authoritatively.

Sensing a strong reluctance to comply with that direct order, Hannibal adopted a more convivial tone, "B.A. we feel your concern for Murdock, really we do. He's our friend too. We want to find him as much as you do but we need to be rational and not fly off the handle," Hannibal soothed once more.

B.A. pondered Hannibal's words and yielded to the wisdom of keeping a level head, despite his gnawing hunch that his insane buddy was in dire straits and that time was running against them.

"Where are you fool?" B.A. wailed inwardly, a tiny tear pearling down the corner of his eye.

* * *

"Nooooooooooooooooooo!" Murdock shrieked in his sleep, tossing and turning, sweat pouring out of him; his fists clawed at the sofa cover, gripping the fabrics till his knuckles turned white. Once again a captive of Nam, he sought refuge in a trench, curling into a ball with hands over his ears to drown out the deafening sound of mortars blasting all around. Suddenly the shelling stopped. He risked a peek through glassy eyes to set sight on dozens of bodies littering the ground. He shrunk back deeper into the trench trying to flee the horror, but instead stumbled backwards and fell next to a mutilated corpse.

"Please, get away from me," he entreated in his fitful slumber. The strain this nightmare was putting on his own wrecked body proved too taxing and he rose with a start, screaming and gasping for breath. A thick sheen of perspiration plastered his face with his cheeks flushed from a raging fever with which he was gradually losing the battle. Soon violent tremors seized him, the convulsions triggering a bout of coughing that quickly turned into intense retching. He turned on his side to vomit, gasping in fright at the blood mixed in with the putrid mash splattering onto the floor. His left side was blazing as if branded by a hot iron while he continued hacking his lungs out. When the fit passed, he eased himself on his back and lethargically studied the room that his muddle brain instantly construed as a Nam prisoners' camp shack. His eyes bulged out of their sockets in terror at the thought of being held captive in such a nightmarish dwelling.

"Got...got to get out of here," he quivered, hauling himself into a sitting position despite being in the throes of agony. As he stood, a powerful fainting spell struck him, forcing him to resume his seat to catch his breath. He was weak as a kitten but his wish to break out of this torment was stronger than his own debilitating pain.

* * *

Despite a debilitating cough, Murdock rode the wind in his attempt to escape the agonizing wails echoing in his mind. Exhausted and gasping for breath, he collapsed to his knees and grabbed his head in pain. "Get out of my head!" he yowled, crumbling into a heap on the ground. "Please," he sobbed uncontrollably, curling into a natal position. Slowly unclenching his fists , his eyes bulged out in horror at the blood-tainted hands. "My God!" he screeched his lungs out. "NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Convulsions once again began wracking his battered shell; however he managed to roll onto his stomach and painfully pushed his way up to his knees to finally teeter to his wobbly legs. He blinked heavily in an effort to dispel the haze in his eyes to establish a clear view of his surroundings. A squirrel squeaked past, startling him to the point of losing balance and falling forward, his forehead violently connecting with a sharp rock that instantly knocked him out unconscious.

Barely an hour later, the insentient Murdock fluttered his eyes open and through a thick haze, attempted to grasp at the reality of the moment, which proved to be a gruelling task given his grievous condition.

He cautiously rolled over onto his back and lay unmoving, hoping to quell the searing pangs radiating through his entire body. He winced at each laboured breath taken that speared his bruised chest and exacerbated his injuries.

Slowly reaching up to his left eyebrow, he traced a deeper gash with a mix of fresh and caked blood. He stared up at the sky and his lips curled into a weak smile at the sight of an eagle hovering above. "Free," he whispered, as a sense of serenity crept over him. For a fleeting moment, he was absolved of all dilemmas, just staring into nothingness with no care in the world. A sea of tranquility seemed to beckon him, alluring him toward that peaceful haven he so was desperately seeking. He allowed himself to be lulled into oblivion once again, wishing for an end to this nightmare.

* * *

Tawnia couldn't help but laugh at Kelly's constant pacing and nail biting. "You're going to wear a hole in your carpet if you don't stop that pacing, not to mention giving me a horrendous headache."

"Sorry Tawnia. I can't help it. I'm scared."

"For Murdock?"

"Yeah," Kelly sighed. She then turned to Tawnia with a thoughtful expression. "Don't know why."

'I do," Tawnia smiled knowingly. "You love him, don't you?"

"I know it's crazy, I hardly know him and yet..." her voice trailed off as she searched her heart and soul. "Yes I honestly believe I do," she professed, suddenly feeling an emotional weight being lifted off her. "Something about those mesmerizing brown puppy-dog eyes that melted my heart," she mused with eyes shining with genuine affection. "Or perhaps it was just my motherly instincts that kicked in, seeing how hurt and helpless he was."

"Oh I think it's more than that. Murdock is a very attractive man. I for one love his sense of humour."

"What's a man like that doing in a mental hospital?"

"I've asked myself the very same question numerous times. Sometimes I think he's the most rational individual in the group. His crazy antics are a way for him to cope with everyday life, I guess. I was told he's been through the ringer in Nam and just snapped. We do need to tread lightly around him, though, so we don't upset the delicate balance between sanity and insanity. If we press too hard, he switches personalities and those are the times we can't reach him."

"Wonder if that's what happened to him at the hospital?" Kelly pondered.

"With Colonel Decker around, I wouldn't be surprised if he pushed Murdock over the edge. The man is relentless. Catching the A-Team has become an obsession and I assume he suspects Murdock to be the secret weapon. "

"He is, isn't he? The team's secret weapon?"

"Yeah. Hannibal once told me that Murdock would just shrivel and die if they didn't recruit him on their missions. They break him out of the VA hospital whenever they need a pilot and bring him

back once it's over. Murdock thrives on those outings if you can call them that. He loves to feel needed and tries his best not to fall off the wagon when he's with us. He never had a real family. His mom died when he was five and his father...well...they never mentioned him to me and I never asked."

"You guys are his family."

Tawnia nodded and smiled her answer.

"I hope they find him. I really do," Kelly sighed.

* * *

He was clumping about, slouching his feet through the withered leaves and twigs. Stubbing his toe against a rock, he lurched forward and crashed onto his stomach, which revolted at the treatment. It triggered spasms, causing him to retch several times before a final gag triggered that downpour of bloodied vomit. He sat on his hunches, doubled up in pain, clutching his abdomen that felt alarmingly warm and rigid at the touch.

"Murdock, help me, please!" a muffled wail rent the stillness of the area, causing Murdock to spin around. "Who...who said that?"

"Murdock, please," The voice kept beseeching. "I'm dying."

A gush of panic swept over the pilot whose blurry eyes frantically searched the source of that human cry. Blinking heavily to clear the haze, he slanted his head at what he discerned to be a lying form in the grass. Oblivious of his own battered body, he staggered to his feet and rushed toward the seemingly hallucination, only to set eyes on an agonizing bloodied soldier he recognized from the war. The sight brutally thrust him into a not so-distant past; the quiet forest slowly dissolved into a roaring battlefield with enemy bullets whizzing by and mortars exploding all around.

"Henry!" Murdock slumped to his knees, prostrate. "My God, what happened?" Murdock carried on the conversation with the belief that this was all too real.

"En...enemy bullet, mortars. Saw it too...too late," he coughed out, panting.

"Henry, hold on, I'll get you out of this. I've got the chopper nearby."

"Ot...other wounded. Back...back there," the surreal vision indicated with his head. "Got to get them or...or they'll die."

"I will, just...just hold on. I'll be right back." In a state of sheer stupor, Murdock dashed toward a clearing where he broke to an abrupt halt at the hecatomb before him. The ground was strewn with corpses of mutilated soldiers, fresh blood still gurgling out of their mouths. He dropped to his knees and dry-heaved. His abdomen was ablaze but he dismissed his own agony to help his comrade in arms. He painfully dragged himself on the ground, slithering around the cadavers in search of signs of life. Relieved was he to find two heaving chests, young maimed warriors whose faces were scorched beyond recognition, but by some divine intervention, were still breathing.

"I got ya, I got ya," Murdock repeated frantically, his cluttered mind sadistically recreating the Nam experience with a slightly different spin; instead of the wounded, he was now the angel of mercy. It was a chance to redeem himself for a misplaced guilt he carried within him for having forsaken his fellow allies. His glassy eyes would lay upon the horrific carnage while his ears would throb to the constant bombardments and air raids whistling above.

With each hand, Murdock gripped the two wraith soldiers' jacket collars and lugged them across the grass toward the awaiting phantom chopper. Barely three feet into his goal that he dropped from exhaustion. Convulsions soon seized his mangled body, which began writhing in excruciating pain. The damp cold air was nipping at his exposed skin, exacerbating the knots of stinging bruises and lacerations.

"Stay low," he instructed the figments of his hallucination. "I'll...I'll be right back. I promise I...I won't aban...abandon you," he gasped between laboured, wheezing breaths. He then gingerly tapped the soldiers' arms in reassurance before heaving himself off the ground. As he lurched

over to a gentle stream, dizziness overcame him, sending him spiralling down in the freezing water. He lay there, unmoving, for several seconds, embracing the peacefulness of a fate destined to occur. But his mind, unwilling to succumb to an untimely demise, however tormented it was, swiftly snapped him back to reality with an ear-splitting scream. After quenching his thirst, he staggered back to his comrades in arms where, shattered, he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

At that precise moment, although miles away, B.A. snapped his head to attention with his eyes taking on a faraway expression.

"B.A. what is it?" Face asked.

B.A. cringed at the weird feeling creeping over him."The crazy man's in trouble. He's hurting bad, Hannibal. We've got to get to him fast!" B.A. urged, his voice dripping with a ghastly fear alien to his personality.

"We would if we knew where he was," Hannibal deplored, ravaging by his own guilt of having failed his pilot friend.

"Let's hit the road. I have a hunch where we can find him," B.A. asserted, manning the helm with a commanding grip, regardless of whether the others were following his lead.

Face squinted inquisitively at Hannibal who merely shrugged. "Okay, let's go. It's worth the try."


	6. Chapter 6

_**This chapter is a roller-coaster of emotions. Hang on tight.**_

"I've seen something moving over there," claimed one of the hunters as both padded up to the small clearing where Murdock lay insentient.

"Careful. Easy steps!" warned his companion. "We don't want to scare it."

With loaded shotguns in hand held with firm grips, the two brothers cautiously proceeded to locate their quarry.

"Get down," one whispered, pulling the other down to hide behind a thicket.

"See something?" the second queried as he scanned the area.

"Yeah but I think it's sleeping or...dead."

"Where?"

The hunter pointed to the unmoving form. "There! You see it?"

"Where? I don't see it," the frustrated man answered , straining to spot their coveted game. "Wait!" he squinted, furrowing his brows to establish clear focus on the figure. "My God! I think it's a man."

"What? No, it can't be."

"Yes it is. I think he's unconscious. Let's go see if he needs help. He could be hurt."

Albeit reluctant to comply, the young sibling followed meekly but warily, threading in his brother's footsteps with gun at the ready. "Careful, Sam. It could be a trap," wafted the caution from behind.

"Don't worry, Tom," Sam heeded Tom's warning and gently kicked Murdock's shoe to elicit a reaction but none came. A second tap yielded a similar response. On his guard still, he slowly hunched down to attempt to shake the figure awake. He laid his gun down on the ground and proceeded to turn the body over. "Oh my God! This man's..." Barely had he finished his thought that Murdock kicked the man in the side.

His brother's reaction came too late to stop the crazed man from grasping the barrel of his gun and swiftly turning the weapon on him. "Don't move!" Murdock threatened, adrenalin pumping through his veins. "You bastards! You'll all die for what you did to my unit back there."

Frozen on the spot from the jolt, Sam and Tom glanced at each other in utter puzzlement.

"What..what are you talking about Mister? We just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Sure you did," Murdock rebuffed, striving to keep alert despite the excruciating pain. "Stay back!" he warned, waiting for the two men to step further back for him to teeter on his feet. Breathing heavily to dispel the fainting spell threatening to engulf him, he aimed the shotgun at Tom.

"Please Mister, whoever you are," quavered the terrified man shaking in his boots, staring saucer-eyed with terror at the raving lunatic before him, "let us go. We mean you no harm."

Murdock's face took on a murderous look as he levelled the shotgun at the shuddering figure's head. "No mercy. This time I'm gonna get you."

In a split of a second, Sam boldly lunged at Murdock to disarm him. Despite his debilitating pain and waning energy, the adrenalin surge conveyed the pilot a Herculean strength that allowed him to wrench himself free from the stranglehold and turn the table on the two hunters. Simultaneous shots rented the air. Then stillness...

Behind the wheel of the van, B.A. head's snapped up. "Did you hear that?"

Worried glances passed through Face and Hannibal. "Yes we did," Face said.

Hannibal switched on his human antennas to home in on the reverberation still echoing in the air. "I think the sound came from behind. B.A., turn around. We'll check it out but let's keep our ears to the ground in case this is one of Decker's ambushes."

"Sam! Sam!" Tom screamed hysterically at the sight of blood oozing from a chest wound. "Hold on, brother, you'll be okay." He frantically tore a piece of his shirttail and balled it up to apply pressure onto his sibling's chest to stem the haemorrhage.

Sam reached up to grip Tom's shirt and whispered feebly, "Did.....did I get him?" he swallowed hard and laboured to draw in a breath to continue, "Is he dead?"

Tom gave a fleeting peek at Murdock's still body. "I don't know." He craned his neck to get a better view of the man's chest. "Seems to me you got him square in the chest. I don't see any movement. I don't think he's breathing."

"You...you go check. I wouldn't want...want him to spring on you," Sam breathed out, the simple task draining an ounce of energy out of him. "Here," he groped his way to his chest where the makeshift bandage was applied, "I'll hold it while you go check."

"Okay," Tom complied, momentarily leaving his brother's side with the shotgun in hand to go assess the psychopath's condition. He edged his way toward Murdock, proceeding circumspectly as he neared the body. He recoiled at the blood pouring out of a freshly inflicted gunshot wound. He squatted down to grope the neck. "He's still alive, but barely."

"Finish him off!" ordered Sam through pain-filled eyes. "Kill the bastard. He's a homicidal maniac"

"Sam, I...I can't do that." Tom stuttered. Although irate at the stranger for shooting his big brother, the young unseasoned hunter couldn't bring himself to cold-bloodedly end a man's life.

"You'll be doing him a favour. He's crazy and obviously agonizing from whatever he's done to himself. When the police asks, we'll pass it off as a hunting accident. I won't..." Sam's voice trailed off as a searing twinge violently stabbed his chest.

Tom let down his guard and by the same token, his shotgun to hurry to his brother's side. Murdock's eyes shot open and straining them to the side to catch a glimpse at the two brothers heavily occupied with each other, he slowly extended his arm to grab the weapon. He drew in a deep but excruciatingly painful breath to summon the strength to aim the gun in Tom's direction with an unsteady hand. With his psyche too muddled to consider the implication of his act, Murdock fired one shot, with the bullet lodging itself in the back of the man's neck.

Tom's eyes bulged out in pain before dropping onto his brother's chest. The shock of the dead weight pressing upon his chest plunged Sam into total darkness and soon joined his young sibling in death.

This last effort drained the remaining energy out of Murdock who simply lay on his back in a complete daze. His limbs were numb and breathing had become a sheer struggle. He stared blankly skywards, a small curl of the lips forming as he witnessed an eagle flying overhead. For a fleeting peaceful moment, he felt serene and the pain was gradually receding. He allowed himself to be lulled by the sweet melody of leaves ruffled by the cool breeze that gently caressed his burning skin, acting as a healing balm that offered temporary relief.

Minutes later, he rolled onto his side, picked up the second shotgun with one bullet remaining and searched the area for his imaginary friends. "Henry! Where are you, buddy?"

"Right...right here, Murdock," wafted the pained voice. "We've got to hurry," he croaked, cringing from the searing pain. "I...I don't think I can't hold on much longer."

Murdock laid a hand on the vision's shoulder and spoke softly and enboldeningly, "Hang on, buddy. I'll get you to the base camp."

"That's him over there," pointed B.A. excitedly. "Come on!" he beckoned Face and Hannibal to follow him.

Believing that enemy soldiers had located him, Murdock's head snapped to attention and he quickly reached for the rifle that he thrust at the Sergeant's head. "Hold it right there!" he warned, holding the gun with an unsteady hand. "One more step and you're dead!"

"Whatcha you doing, fool? It's me, B.A. Put that gun down before you hurt somebody."

Murdock fired a warning shot in B.A.'s direction, with the bullet whizzing past his head and finding a target in Face's shoulder who was standing close behind.

"Aye!" Face cried out in pain before falling backwards into Hannibal's arms. The Colonel eased his wounded partner down on the ground. "He's not kidding. He just shot me."

"You okay?" Hannibal asked worried.

"Yes, yeah I'm okay. The slug just graced me." Then turning to Murdock, "What the hell's wrong with him?"

"From what I can figure I think he's back in Nam. He doesn't know what he's doing, so I suggest we proceed with extreme caution for all our sakes."

"The fool'll listen to me," B.A. stammered resolutely before taking another two steps towards the loony pilot.

"B.A., don't do it. He doesn't recognize you," Hannibal warned from behind, catching the murderous look in Murdock's glazed-over eyes.

Determined to get to his friend, B.A. paid no heed to his leader's counsel and continued to inch over to Murdock who showed no sign of snapping back to reality.

"Murdock, look at me! It's me, Big Guy. Murdock, look at me! LOOK AT ME! he shouted menacingly to spur the lunatic back to reality.

"Don't...don't come any closer, or I...." Murdock's voice trailed off as he suddenly recognized the bulgy black figure standing fuzzily before him. "Who? Wait...wait," He squinted to clear away the fog and establish clear focus. Slowly, Murdock broke through the mist of craziness to find a small period of lucidity. 'B...B.A., is that you, old buddy?"

"Yeah it's me, fool. Now put down that gun!" He ordered commandingly as if outranking the Captain who shook his head frantically.

"No, no I...I can't. You see they're all around us, lurking in the shadows, poised ready to spring on us, so we...we can't let down the arms."

"What are you talking about, Murdock? Ain't no one here. You're safe. We're not in Nam anymore." B.A. struggled with his inner emotions as he continued padding forward toward his dying friend, fighting a losing battle with unconsciousness.

B.A. finally managed to approach Murdock and swiftly but gently, grabbed the hand holding the rifle. "Let go of the rifle, Murdock."

"Be careful, Big Guy. Watch your back. They'll get you for sure."

"Don't worry. If anyone messes with me I'll wring his neck."

"Yeah," Murdock smiled reminiscently, lost in a stupor. "Remember that time you did that Vietcom in? You saved my life."

"Weren't nuthin," B.A strove to keep a poker face as he took in the multiple wounds and bruises on Murdock's body. It was a miracle the man was still alive. He turned to Hannibal and Face busy checking for signs of life on the hunters and motioned them to move forward with caution.

Sensing a friendly presence in B.A., Murdock finally conceded to exhaustion and collapsed into his friend's strong arms. The big man sat on the ground and held the agonizing pilot against his chest.

Murdock hacked his lungs out, coughing and spitting blood onto his tattered shirt. All three friends cringed at the horrid sight but maintained a brave front so not to upset Murdock, if at all possible at this far-gone stage.

Murdock feebly lifted his right hand to reach for B.A. shoulder sleeve. His strength rapidly ebbing away, he struggled to retain a speck of energy to make a last request. "Big guy," he heaved out, his breathing becoming more erratic. Swallowing hard the ferric taste of blood stuck down his throat, he managed to croak out. "Get Henry and the others to base camp. They... they're in dire need of...of medical attention."

"What are you talking about?" B.A. asked, caught in a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts.

Hannibal tapped B.A. on the hand and shook his head negatively. "Don't B.A. Don't try to figure it out. Just listen."

"Henry and the other soldiers, please B.A.," he pleaded with huge bulging glassy eyes, gripping at the sleeve, almost ripping the fabric. "You need to help them."

"I will. I will. Don't you worry, Murdock. I'll take care of them...and you."

"Sorry, Big Guy," Murdock breathed out, closing his eyes in utter exhaustion. "I'm not going with you this time. It's the end of the road for me," he languished, coughing another streak of blood. "I can't make it."

"Yes you can and you will, damn it!" B.A. lashed out at a life he frightfully sensed was slipping away despite his desperate pleas. "I ain't gonna let you die on me. We've been through so much together to just...."

"Look!" Murdock interrupted, his gaze shifting skywards where he lazily pointed to an eagle soaring above. "Look...look at the eagle," he said giddily, a sense of tranquility gradually washing over him, brushing away all the hurt and pain. "Up there...it's free." His big baby brown suddenly glazed over with an unseen expression with leaden eyelids blinking heavily, squeezing out the tears that pearled down his flushed cheeks. "Wh...where I belong," his voice trailed off in a soft whisper before the black curtain fell on the last chapter of his life.

"Murdock, man! come on, wake up! come on fool!" B.A. bellowed , shaking the listless man out of his lethargy, hoping to elicit some response. "Murdock, come on buddy!"

With a lump in his throat, an emotionally fraught Hannibal reached for the pilot's neck and shook his head dismally.

"No way!" B.A. barked, quickly dislodging himself from underneath the dead weight and spreading it on the ground. "You ain't gonna give up on us, fool! Not after what we went through. I'm not gonna let him to take the coward way out." B.A. hysterically applied his own CPR technique by repeatedly pounding on Murdock's chess to jump-start his heart.

After a few unsuccessful cardiac thumps, Hannibal grabbed B.A.'s arm and shook his head. "Don't B.A.. Let him go. He's had enough," The grieving colonel mollified, conveying a sense of finality that profoundly distressed B.A. .

"I can't Hannibal. I just can't!" B.A. roughly shrugged off, brushing Hannibal's hand aside to concentrate on his obsessive goal of resuscitating the lifeless form of his kindred spirit. The massive hands continued pressing down upon Murdock's chest, though instead of a heartbeat, gurgling blood trickled from the mouth and oozed from the chest wound.

Beaten, B.A. stopped his frantic thumps and slumped back on his heels, head hanging over the dead body in repentance. "Sorry," he whimpered, his body racked with uncontrollable shudders that were atypical of his personality. Yet, the tears flew freely at the thought of having failed his best friend in the world; the brother he only wished he had.

In a sympathetic gesture, Hannibal reached for B.A.'s arm but the brutha harshly smacked it away inflicting a stinging pain. "DON'T touch him!" he threatened with blazing eyes.

"B.A. we must get outta of here and fast," Hannibal tried to stress upon the mourner. "The shots must have been heard miles around and police will soon be converging on the scene, including Decker."

B.A. acknowledged with a slight nod of the head. "I'll carry him to the van," he sniffed, his commanding voice suggesting a direct order rather than a plain offer.

"What about those two?" Face asked, motioning to the two dead hunters sprawled on the ground while holding his injured shoulder.

"We'll notify the authorities. They'll pick them up."

"Hey guys! Wait for me!" hailed Murdock from behind as he casually rose to his feet and followed the threesome to the van. "Hey Big Guy, what's you got there?" He asked playfully in a teasing flair. With a cheerful bounce in his step, he moved ahead of his friend to satisfy his curiosity as to the bundle B.A. was carrying. "What are you carrying t....," he gasped, eyes popping out of their sockets in horror at the sight of his mutilated body lovingly cradled in his friend's arms. "Oh my God!" he managed to exhale. "Oh dear Lord!" his breath once again itched in his throat as the grim reality struck him smack in the face. "I'm...no...I can't be., " he shook his head frantically, refusing to recognize the obvious. "I'm mortally wounded, that's it, isn't it? Hey I'm just real sick and the guys are taking me to the hospital, " he alleged , his mind in total denial of the remote possibility that he might have given up the ghost altogether. "You had me worried there for a while," he pursued his banter in an attempt to convince himself that he was in limbo, awaiting the proper time to leap back into his body.

He threaded on B.A.'s heels all the way to the van where Face and Hannibal assisted him in laying the body on the floor.

"NO! DON'T!" B.A. barked at Face who proceeded to pull a blanket over Murdock's face. "Leave it there," he instructed menacingly.

"Okay," Face sighed his understanding of B.A.'s wish to keep the light burning a while longer. The griever taking a vigil by the dead man's body was Face's cue to sit in the driver's seat. He gripped the wheel and breathed out a puff of mixed anger and sorrow, before asking, "Where to now?"

The question broke Hannibal out of his own catatonic stupor and looked blankly at Face. "For once I don't have an answer for you."

"We could bring him back to the VA. They'll know what to do with him."

"Yeah," Hannibal signed with contempt.

"He's staying with us!" B.A. tabled the discussion, his imperious tone leaving no room for argument. "We ain't gonna abandon him. He's our friend. Who knows what they'll do to him back there."

"B.A., we owe it to Murdock to give him a proper military funeral. I think we all agree he needs to be buried with his comrade in arms."

"What about us? We can't show up at that ceremony," B.A. argued.

"We'll have our own wake, Big Guy. Don't you worry. We'll give Murdock a decent send off."

"Wait a second, guys! What are you talking about wakes and funerals? I'm not dead. I'm just floating in between worlds." He waved a hand in front of B.A.'s face but elicited no reaction. "You can't see me or hear me, can you?" he gaped with a forlorn expression, a sudden sinking feeling washing over him.

"Don't look so glum, guys. I'll return. Just need to have me a little chat with the Man upstairs about the gross mistake he's committed and I promise I'll leap back into that empty shell of mine in no time flat. In the meantime, don't do anything harsh with my body there. I will need it back." On those light-hearted words, Murdock's ethereal body vanished from his space, leaving his despondent friends to decide how to dispose of his corpse.

They unanimously agreed to drive back to Kelly's home office and ask her to assume the loathsome task of phoning the authorities with the news of Murdock's death.

"Guys, you realize we can't just waltz in there with Murdock's body. We'll traumatize the ladies. Do you want me to break the news to them?" Face offered, though Hannibal perceived a hint of reluctance.

"Thanks Face but I'll do it," Hannibal resigned to the gruesome task at hand to spare his friend the emotional burden. He stole one glimpse B.A.'s way and noticed a disturbing transformation in the big man's personality. Granted not discernible to an untrained eye, but glaringly obvious to a close-knit friend.

"B.A., I'm going to need you to carry Murdock inside once I give you the green light."

Hannibal's request bounced off the thick haze of sorrow engulfing the grieving man. B.A. remained catatonic, his dewy, impassive gaze still fastened on his friend who lay inert on the van's floor. He adjusted the blanket over Murdock's shoulders and cracked a thoughtful smile. "He looks peaceful, don't he?" he observed chokingly, his shuddering sigh betraying the overwhelming emotions simmering beneath the surface that the stubbornly proud man hated wearing on his sleeve.

"B.A., you okay?"

"Hannibal, sometimes you ask the stupidest questions. What do you think, man?" he peeved in indignation.

"I know it's a terrible shock but we need to pull together. We can't allow our emotions to cloud our thoughts or we're liable to fall into a noose," Hannibal strove to keep a semblance of leadership, but with poor results.

"I don't care anymore," B.A. confided morosely. "I don't want to do this without the crazy fool."

"B.A. let it rest for now. We've lost our bearings and until we get it back, we can't make rational decisions."


	7. Chapter 7

_**A bit of light-hearted comedy amid angst**_

"So those are the famous Pearly White Gates I've heard so much about," Murdock quipped upon entering the Kingdom. "This is so surreal," he rhapsodized, marvelling at overpowering beauty and inviting peacefulness. As his hands gently brushed against the iron bars, the gates instantly pulled open and bade him enter.

Murdock was caught in wonderful raptures, so intensely dazed was he that the purpose of his visit momentarily eluded him. He cautiously proceeded onwards through the misty clouds until a white-suit -clad man holding a pad and pencil met him.

"Mister Murdock, I presume?"

"Euh yeah. That's me."

"Welcome. We've been expecting you."

"Thanks. Is this really Heaven?" he asked perkily, his 'mind' toiling to grasp at the reality of his surroundings.

"Yes it is, Mister Murdock," the intendant concurred impassively, not the least bit impressed by the new arrival's euphoria. "You are next."

"Oh wait," he shook his head in recollection of his purpose. " I think there's been a mistake."

"No mistake Mister Murdock. You are scheduled to go through."

"Check again."

Reading off his pad, "Your name is Harold Marlin Murdock, born April 15th 1947 in ..."

"Harold Marlin?" Murdock grimaced. "Harold Marlin?" he loathed repeatedly with a deep-rooted disgust.

"That's right."

"Ewwwwww! Harold? I can't believe my folks picked that name for me."

"What did you think the initials HM stood for?"

"I never really knew. Friends call me Howling Mad," he informed with a misplaced pride.

"That's hardly a name."

"Well I like it," he sassed back.

"Please Mister Murdock, others are waiting," the man grew impatient at Murdock's temporization.

"Well, let them pass. I want to see the manager."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's a mistake. It's like in that movie with Dustin Hoffman, no wait...that was Warren Beatty, I always get those two mixed up," he jested. "That angel guy grabbed him before the accident happened thinking that he was a goner and that he wanted to spare him the suffering but by doing so, he made a dreadful mistake because it wasn't the man's time yet. So they had to bring him back only they had cremated his body. So he had to assume another man's body and...," he interrupted his gibber just as a grim thought crossed his mind, "wonder if they're going to do the same to my body? Will it hurt? If so I can always fit into the old mudsucker's frame. That'd be a riot...."

"Mister Murdock please! We do not commit mistakes. Your name is clearly on the list."

"What's the hold up?" came a voice from behind.

"It's this new arrival sir; he won't go through the gates. He says it's not his time."

"Isn't he on the list?"

"Yes, Harold Marlin Murdock,"

Murdock cringed with disdain at the name, "Oh please, call me HM or if you must use my real name, make it Harry instead."

"He is due to arrive on May 16th 1984 at precisely thirteen twenty-five."

"Then he has to go through."

Murdock crossed his arms and stood defiantly before the two figures. "I won't."

"Why won't you go? Usually people are delighted to cross the threshold to the Kingdom," the magistrate explained to the mule-headed pilot.

"Well that's fine perhaps for those who have been loners all of their lives, and are more than happy to find a haven full of significant others."

"I can assure you that many share your situation and do not complain."

"Well I do!" Murdock griped.

"This is not negotiable," the magistrate exhorted.

With tears brimming over, Murdock snivelled, "It's just that...it happened so fast. I didn't have time to say a proper goodbye to my friends. Please I need to do this or I'll make your life a living hell, if you'll pardon me the expression," he ended mockingly with a wicked grin.

A long thoughtful silence ensued before the high magistrate spoke, "I can grant you only three hours."

" Six," Murdock countered.

"Mister Murdock, you don't need that much time."

"Humour me, please. I can catch the next flight to the Big House once I've done my thing."

The magistrate swivelled his head to the left as if picking up a distant voice wafting into his ears. He then gave a discreet nod and then back to Murdock. "Ok," he sighed. "We will allow you six hours to bid your friends a final farewell but you will need to grant us a favour in return."

"What kind of favour?" Murdock asked with an eyebrow raised in deep suspicion.

"You will know when the time comes. Now go."

"Thank you. You won't regret this." Murdock excitedly turned on his heels and vanished into the misty clouds.

"But sir, why that long? It's against regulations."

"Bending the rules is sometimes required in extreme situations. He will soon be called upon to save a life whose time has not yet arrived."

Following Kelly's call to the hospital reporting Murdock's death, the medical coroner showed up at her office along with Colonel Decker and Captain Crane. They watched in silent respect as the corpse was placed inside a body bag and then carried out to the car to be shipped to the morgue for an autopsy, where it would remain pending military funeral arrangements.

Decker could tell by the psychic pains between his shoulder blades that the A-Team was lurking in the nearby vicinity. Their friend's death was like a magnet to an anchor and if he had any chance of catching them, it was now.

"The queen is dead, Crane," Decker confided morosely to his second in command. "The bees won't have a reason to hang around the hive anymore. The moment is now while their friend's body still warm. Once the man's buried, they'll take flight and we'll lose track of them.

"What do you want us to do?"

"Have a round-the-clock watch on Doctors Stevens' house. Post men at the four corners of her property and I want them to report every single movement that occurs in and out of that house, is that understood?"

"Yes Sir, Colonel Decker."

"I won't allow them to slip through my fingers this time. This is our last chance to catch them. They are trapped and don't know it yet," he smiled malevolently.

As the clock chimed ten, Kelly began the last round of her office, shutting off the lights and locking the doors and windows. She then proceeded to her living quarters and did the same before heading for her bedroom. As per Hannibal's instructions, all moves and actions were done slowly and methodically for the benefit of the prying eyes watching her outside her house.

She cracked a wicked grin as she walked to the bathroom with her pyjamas in hand. Once the door closed, she quickly donned a black outfit and slipped her nightclothes over it. Minutes later she emerged from the bathroom and maintained the curtains open to allow Decker's hawks to keep a watchful eye on her. She slid under the cover and grabbed a book that she pretended to read. Ten minutes later, she closed the book and shut off the lamp on the night table. When 10:45 lit up on her clock radio, she stealthily stole out of bed and sat on the floor away from the window to remove her pyjamas. She grabbed on the black mask underneath the bed and slid it over her head. She grabbed a light suitcase from underneath her bed and stole out of the room.

Slinking deftly about like a cat poised ready to jump on its prey, she slowly moved to the basement door, avoiding all windows. As she turned the knob, she noticed Murdock's jacket thrown over the armchair. She bit her lower lip as she pondered whether she should risk taking a few steps to retrieve the precious item. After quickly weighing the pros and cons of such action, she decided to go the extra feet to grab the treasured coat, stuffed it inside her suitcase and fled to the basement.

She groped her way to the trap door in the pitch darkness and pulled it open, careful to keep the carpet over it. She then climbed down the tiny ladder and closed the door and with it, the carpet came down to conceal the secret opening.

She crawled through the narrow shaft all the way to a small bunker located at the outskirts of the woods. She cracked the door open and peeked out, glancing left and right to detect the presence of any MP, whether in uniform or not. Mentally calculating the steps from the bunker to the pathway leading to the inky-dark woods, she gratefully acknowledged the moonless night that allowed her to steal away to her final destination as an inconspicuous shadow.

As she groped her way down the pathway, the croaking of a frog startled her. She swivelled her head from left to right and heaved a sigh of relief when it finally dawned on her that it was the secret rallying call. She followed the sound until she met with the gang.

"Any problem?" Hannibal asked.

"No, at least I don't think so. I don't believe I was followed," Kelly replied confidently as she removed the black mask from her face and handed her suitcase to B.A..

"Well we won't hang around here long enough to find out. Let's go guys." Hannibal instructed as they made their way to the van parked nearby.

"Decker will be mad as a hornet when he finds out that Kelly slipped out of her house with no one being the wiser," Face stated with a degree of pleasure.

"I pity his men who will receive the brunt of his spewing," B.A, added, equally with a touch of satisfaction.

"Where are we going?" Kelly inquired.

"Crystal Lake. It's one of Murdock's favourite retreats. The VA once brought their patients there on therapeutic outings," Hannibal explained.

"But what if they show up and we're there?"

"Rest assured, they no longer go to the cottage. A dear friend of ours now owns the property. There won't be any problem," Face assured, though with some lingering reservations. He turned to Hannibal. "Right?"

"Right," Hannibal agreed.

Kelly stole forty winks in the back of the van while it quietly travelled down the country road. All were silent and subdued, lost in their own personal thoughts of the dear friend they had lost. Murdock's untimely death had left a void in their lives and they each wondered if that hole would ever be filled.

"By the way, how's your arm, Face?"

"It's okay, Hannibal. Kelly did a good job of patching it up." Stillness ensued as Face glanced at the beautiful woman slumbering peacefully and smiled. "Do you think she'll be all right? She seemed very fond of Murdock."

"I'm sure she will," Hannibal speculated unconvincingly. "I'm sure we all will...eventually. We'll help each other out alleviate the pain, including hers."

"After this, will she be able to live a normal life? I mean I suspect Decker will be her shadow; following her every move and pestering her about us," Tawnia assumed.

"She's a tough girl. She can handle Decker. I'd offer her to tag along with us, but she'd have to give up her practice and everything she owns to become a fugitive. I don't want that for her and I'm sure Murdock would slug me if I did that."

A small audible shuddering sigh drifted from B.A.'s mouth as the mere mention of his buddy's name speared his already aching heart.


	8. Chapter 8

They arrived at their final destination in the wee hours of the morning. They parked the van somewhere inconspicuous and went inside the cottage. With words unspoken, they headed to their respective room where, exhausted and emotionally drained, they crashed onto their beds and went out like lights the second their heads hit the pillow.

In late morning, B.A. was first to awake. Instead of making his way to the kitchen to grab breakfast, he wandered out of the house and came to stand on the small dock. He remained there stoic and impassive, staring out into nothingness. The burden of his emotions outweighed any other woe crushing down on his shoulders. For the first time in his life he felt utterly alone and helpless.

B.A. Baracus? Whitewashed by a bunch of nonsense emotions? Especially for the crazy fool? He shook his head in disbelief at the irony. Somehow he couldn't conquer that foe, nor did he wish to defeat it. He could not nurture those overwhelming and debilitating emotions and yet, he felt a need to keep them tucked away in his heart, however painful they were.

So absorbed in his thoughts was he that he didn't hear the patter of feet padding up to him from behind.

"Mind if I join you?" Kelly asked meekly.

"No I don't mind. Just won't be good company," B.A. answered dispassionately without blinking.

Kelly looked down at Murdock's jacket draped over her arm. "I found this in my office. Must have been left behind when we took your friend to the hospital."

B.A.'s glazed eyes set sight upon the cherished coat, instantly widening up in surprise.

"Murdock's jacket. I thought we'd lost it," he choked, gulping down the lump forming in his throat.

Kelly gingerly laid the jacket in B.A.'s arms. "I think Murdock would want you to have it."

B.A. lifted his dewy eyes and smiled gratefully, "Thank you," he quavered, striving to conceal his emotions.

"I'll...I'll leave you alone now. "

B.A. acknowledged with a small nod of the head and watched her walk away. He then turned to face the lake and hugged the jacket to his chest.

"She's a sweet lady," sighed Murdock as he watched Kelly return to the house. "Gosh I wish I was still whole so I could take her into my arms and hug...," a tiny sob interrupted his thought. He then turned to B.A.. "Hey Big Guy, you're not crying, are you?"

"I hate you, Murdock," B.A. vociferated. "I hate you for leaving us. Why? Why d'ya have to die?"

"Well it wasn't exactly my choice. I hardly recall what happened, really. All I can remember is running and running," Murdock confided, closing his eyes in painful reminiscence. "I don't recollect the pain as much as the hopelessness that invaded me. I never felt so alone and scared in my life. I guess I just lost it at some point. It was my time to go anyway, so I take it all happened for a reason," he shrugged.

"Sucker! How I ever put up with you I'll never know," B.A. spewed out. "I ain't got no reason to feel like crap. Man, you were just a crazy fool seeing things that weren't there and talking to people who weren't real."

"Oh yeah? Who's talking to whom now, Mudsucker?" Murdock mocked with a wicked grin.

"You were annoying as hell. Times I wanted to ring your neck," B.A. half-heartedly grinded between clenched teeth.

"I bet you're glad to have me out of your hair, right?"

"Yeah you were a pain in the ass all right, but I'd gotten used to you tagging along. Your craziness was harmless and good-spirited and actually made me feel good at times. I learned it was your way of coping with the crap thrown at you. Me I coped with my fists."

Murdock broke into a laugh. "That you did, Big Guy. That you did. Got me out of some plights too."

"Ah man! I was unfair to you, pushing you away like I did. I'd kill to hear your jibber jabber about now."

"I wish I could spin out a roll of my crazy antics for you. I wish to God I could," Murdock confided longingly as he laid a hand on B.A.'s shoulder that went right through. "I can't even touch you. I wish I could give you a sign that I'm here, standing beside you, but it doesn't work like in the movies," he deplored, tears pooling in his eyes at the sight of the heart-wrenching scene unfolding before him.

"I'm gonna kill that Decker for what he did to you," B.A. spat, absentmindedly twisting the jacket as his eyes shot daggers.

"I wouldn't do that, Big Guy. You'll be sending him my way and I could do without his company right now." Murdock bantered, after which he hung his head solemnly, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking soberly. "Look, I don't have much time to say goodbye to everyone, and you sure are making it very hard for me to do," he sighed heavily, looking away to try to suppress his emotions.

"God I miss you, Buddy. I miss you like crazy," the big guy lamented with a voice cracking with sobs as he hugged the jacket tighter. "I wish I could have told you how I felt but I ain't into that mushy stuff."

"People say I love you all the time but that doesn't mean anything. You conveyed the message in your own way and I've always known you cared. When I was shot and that you guys tried to keep me alive? I may have been out of it most of the time but I recall the voices. I remember lying against you in that cave and you sponged the sweat off my face and tried to keep me comfortable. I'll never forget that moment because this is where you said that I was your best friend and that you were not going to let me die," he spoke with a slight quiver in his voice.

"Later I heard you speak to the Man upstairs and asked to trade places with me. That was the most touching moment and I wished to God I could have told you how much I valued our friendship, but I was too weak to speak," he cried, closing his eyes to squeeze out the tears that pearled down his cheeks. "You know B.A., your words kept me alive that day. They were my lifeline and I thank you for it." He sniffed back a tear and shut his eyes in repentance of his past actions that led to his untimely demise.

"I don't know how we're gonna go on without you. Face won't admit it but he's falling apart and Hannibal ...well Hannibal tries to keep a brave front but he's not fooling me."

"You'll be all right. You'll move on and leave the past behind. I expect you'll always keep me around tucked away in a small corner of your tickers, but the pain and sorrow will eventually dissipate and you'll be able to remember of me with smiles and laughter."

With a faltering step, a wistful Murdock left B.A. alone with his grief and headed toward the house to seek Kelly out. He found her standing by the fireplace mantle, distractedly patting a stuffed rabbit as she mused over the brown-eyed stranger that briefly came into her life. She was amazed that, even in death, Murdock still had this powerfully emotional hold on her.

"My beautiful angel. You're such a pretty girl," Murdock marvelled as he gazed lovingly at her. "I envy the man who will win your heart, Muchacha. Why didn't I meet you sooner?" he bemoaned. He ambled over to her and lifted his hand up to 'touch' her hair. "What I would give to be able to touch you." He continued to stare at the grief-stricken woman standing by the fireplace. "We barely met and yet we seem to have hit it off. But would you have wanted a loony tune as your boyfriend?"

"Kelly? Is everything all right?" Face queried worriedly as he entered the livingroom. Kelly answered with a strained smile. "Yeah I know. Stupid question."

"No, it's ok. I'm a bit overwrought. I just need to get my bearings back and I'll be fine," she said apathetically. "I do love this place. It's very peaceful."

"Yeah, we had some good moments on this property. It was Murdock's favourite retreat and it soon became ours." He paused to allow his memory to rove back to happier times at Crystal Lake. "He was quite a character," he mused with a thoughtful smile. "They said he had a few screws lose but I think he was the sanest guy in the group. His eccentricity made us laugh and by the same token, it would relieve the stress and the fear that we were often under. Whenever we got into jams you could rely on Murdock to invent some cockamamie contraption to get us out. Yeah, he was a character all right."

"I trust you were best of friends?"

"I'd like to think we were."

"Of course we were, Faceman!" Murdock griped. "You, the Big Guy and the Colonel were the family I never had. I loved you guys to death." He rolled his eyes and winced at the irony of the word. "Bad choice of words, Murdock."

"I only saw a glimpse of him but what I saw I liked."

"I think he would have adored you like we all do. You're one fine lady."

"Thank you," she said coyly, her cheeks blushing at the compliment.

Murdock slanted his head sideways and shot Face a dubious look. "Careful Face," he issued a friendly warning. "I beg of you, don't take advantage of her emotional vulnerability."

Face risked a sympathetic hand on Kelly's shoulder and when she didn't swat it away, he moved in with a warm hug. "We'll get through this together."

"I don't know why I'm crying, really," she sobbed, slowly disengaging the embrace to dry her tears. "It's silly, isn't it?" she laughed giddily.

"No it's not," he reassured, before clasping her hand. "Murdock had that effect on people."

"Argggggg, you guys are so squishy-squashy!" Murdock grumbled."You're embarrassing me here. I could get on people's nerves just like anyone else. I know I did you at times. I'm sure Kelly would have gone nuts with me around."

"I remember that stuffed rabbit," Face recalled wistfully as he observed Kelly's gentle strokes. "It was Murdock's favourite weapon against the blues."

"I...I don't quite understand," Kelly asked, puzzled.

Face edged up to the fireplace mantle to take the toy in his hands. "Whenever one of us was down in the dumps, Murdock would make that little fellow come alive with his voice characterization and it would always cheer us up in spite of the circumstances. It worked every time." He fiddled with the rabbit's ears before handing it over to Kelly. "Here, you keep it. It will help ease the pain."

"Thank you, Face. I appreciate it."

"My pleasure.

A distressing stillness crawled into the room and for a moment, neither one spoke. One sigh later, misty eyes locked onto each other, creating a powerful emotional attraction. Face leaned in to steal a kiss but Kelly broke her trance and politely pushed him away.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have...." Face repented.

"No, no it's okay, Face. It's not you. It's me. I'm just not ready. You understand?"

"Of course I do," he atoned. "I'm here for you if you need a shoulder to cry on, or anything else for that matter."

"Thank you, Face. I might take you up on it sometimes."

With a thoughtful smile and a hollow heart, Face vacated the premises, leaving a grieving Kelly in his wake.

Murdock approached her and 'enlaced' her in his arms, though he couldn't touch her. "You can lean on them anytime, Kelly. They are the best bunch of people you could ever meet. I was proud to call them friends. They were my pillars of strength. They'll never fail you." He buried his nose into her hair to steal a whiff of the intoxicating fragrance. "Even though we never dated I consider you my girl. I wouldn't want you to fall for the wrong guy. Ah heck what am I talking about? Perhaps I would have been wrong for you. I mean who would want a nutcase like me as her boyfriend? Faceman on the other hand may be a womanizer but I sense he's sincere about his affection towards you."

He closed his eyes and leaned close to her ear. "No matter what you choose to do with your life, I'll be here to watch over you," he murmured before disengaging the embrace. He cast one last longing glance her way and left the room, unaware that Kelly had just reacted to his whisper by brushing a hand against her ear.

He then made his way to Face's bedroom where he began lecturing him on his behaviour toward Kelly. "You were a bit quick on the draw there, Faceman, but I can't really blame you. She's very beautiful." He then paused and moved closer to the grieving blond. "Friend, I'm entrusting her to your care seeing how you two seem to fancy each other, but be warned: I will watch you like a hawk and if you so much cause her grief, I'll find a way to let you feel my wrath. I love you like a brother, but DON'T YOU DARE HURT HER! Treat her with respect. She's my girl, remember that."

Face's head snapped up as if reacting to Murdock's scathing words. "Murdock?" he ventured to ask, glancing around the place. "Nah!" he dismissed with a wave of the hand.

In the next room, Murdock found Hannibal unpacking his clothes and stuffing them inside drawers. "I expect you to keep your wits about you and not fall apart like the others. To be honest it's very pleasing to know that I'll be missed," he confided with a slight embarrassment.

Then all was silent. Murdock raised his head to see Hannibal sitting stoically on the edge of the bed with eyes unseen.

"Oh no, not you Hannibal ! You've always been the strong one. Don't fall apart on me, I beg of you."

"Oh Murdock, life sure ain't gonna be the same around here without you. I assume this is the end of the A-Team. We've lost our secret weapon, our pilot, our friend," he sighed heavily as he hauled himself off the bed and ambled to the window to cast a look outside at B.A. who hadn't moved from his spot. "With time Face will survive our lost as I expect I will. It's B.A. that I'm mostly worried about. He loved you to death. Course he won't admit out loud but he's hurting something fierce."

"Don't fret about it too much, Colonel. B.A. might surprise you. Anyhow I'll watch over the ugly Mudsucker. He won't be alone in this tough patch."

"God I promised myself I wouldn't cry," Hannibal snivelled, wiping an errant tear in the corner of his eye.

"Then don't Hannibal . Awwwwwwwww gees, Colonel! If I'd known saying goodbye to all of you would be such a gut-twister I never would've asked for a deferral on my time.

"I trust you're in the room at this very minute, scolding me about my squishy squashy," Hannibal evoked with his eyes cautiously swivelling around the room.

"You know me so well, Colonel," Murdock shook his head in amazement.

Hannibal's brows knitted with concern as he observed B.A. angrily throwing pebbles into the lake. "All I ask is that you stick close to our Brutus. He's gonna need a lot of looking after. This is too colossal a task for me to handle alone."

"Rest assured, I won't let the Big Guy outta my sight. You, Face, Kelly...you won't ever..." his voice trailed off as he choked on his words. One gulp later, "you won't ever be alone. You have my solemn promise."

"And I'll hold you to that," Hannibal replied to the ethereal presence.

"Wait a minute...you heard what I just said?" Hannibal didn't acknowledge and kept his frown fastened on B.A. who switched from stone throwing to beam bashing.

"He's hurting bad," he mumbled to himself.

"He'll get over it...eventually," Murdock tried to soothe. "Look Hannibal ...."

"What's he doing now?" Hannibal interrupted. "Where's he going?"

"What?" Murdock followed Hannibal's gaze outside the window . "He's getting in the van."

"The fool!" Hannibal dashed out the house and ran after the moving vehicle. "B.A., stop! Come back!"

"I'll get him, Colonel," Murdock eagerly volunteered and instantly vanished.

Consumed by an implacable rage and ravaging grief, B.A. aimlessly sped down the road, the escape velocity acting as a soothing balm on his aching soul.

"Just what d'you think you're doing?" Murdock scolded from the back. "B.A., come on," he leaned closer to the driver's seat to reason with his troubled friend. 'Stop the van, Big Guy. You're liable to pick up a tail at this speed. You wouldn't want to get caught and thrown in the slammer after all the trouble you went through to keep Decker at bay?"

B.A. switched lanes to overtake the slowpoke in front, when suddenly he swirled to avoid an oncoming car.

"Man, what are you trying to do, kill yourself?" Murdock bellowed, his snarl dripping with anger. "Stop this reckless driving, you're scaring the hell outta me!" he looked skywards and with a coy smile, said, "Sorry."

With a heart racing from the narrow escape, B.A. furiously banged on the steering wheel while keeping the pedal to the metal.

"B.A. listen to me...LISTEN TO ME! You're not alone. I'm with you, Big Guy. I'm right here beside you." Head shot straight up at the sky and with a bleeding heart, he pleaded with every fibber of his being, "God please! Let me get through to him, please."

Another swirl to avoid a running deer crossing the road met with a horrific fate. The van ended his frantic ride against a tree, crushing the front hood with the steering wheel slamming into the driver's chest, instantly knocking him unconscious.


	9. Chapter 9

Murdock's spirit drifted away from the van as Good Samaritans dashed to the aid of the dying victim. Soon, the ambulance converged on the scene and drove B.A. to the hospital. A woeful Murdock stood by the side of the road and watched with numb senses as the ambulance screeched away with sirens blaring.

Teary eyed, he looked heavenwards and whimpered, "If this is the favour you asked of me, I'm afraid I've failed you. You have me. Don't take him too. Please don't."

At the hospital, B.A. was wheeled into the emergency room and while a team of doctors worked frenetically at saving the victim's life, his soul slowly peeled away from the shell and stood by the examining table. He scanned the room in utter confusion, puzzled as to the peculiar surroundings when his eyes finally set upon a familiar face.

He frowned, bewildered as to what he was actually seeing. "Murdock? Man is that you?"

"Yeah Big Guy, it's me. I'm here."

"Hey, hey!" B.A. whooped, excitedly striding up to Murdock, ready to burst at the seams at the sight of his best friend that he squeezed into a bear hug. "You're real. I can feel you. You're real!" he gushed, locking Murdock into a tight grip. "It's good to see you, Crazy man!"

Murdock returned the embrace tenfold, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent the tears from spurting out.

"Hey," B.A. pulled back as reality suddenly dawned on him. "How come I can see you?"

Murdock bit his upper lip and glanced to the right. B.A. followed his gaze to the examining table. Eyes popped out in shock at the gruesome scene unfolding before him. "That's me."

"Yeah, that's you."

"What happened?"

"Don't you remember?"

B.A.'s brows furrowed deeply as he cudgelled his brains into recalling the accident. "I was in the van and...and this creature scurried across the road..."

"...and when you swerved to avoid it you smashed into a tree," Murdock finished. "I'm sorry."

"Then if I can see you and you're dead, so that means that...that I'm," He stared at Murdock with a ghostly look, "I'm dead?"

"Not yet. You're sort of in limbo, pending a decision."

"Decision?"

Murdock flashed a friendly smile. "Your decision to go back."

"What if I don't wanna to go back?" B.A. stated firmly.

"It's not your time yet, Big Guy."

"And what about you?" B.A. retorted with his usual gruff voice, spurring Murdock into conjuring up a tangible reason for his having departed from this earth.

"For me, it was a relief. I was hurting, B.A.. And not just that time, but every day. I didn't belong anymore. I joked around so much 'cause, like you said, it was a way for me to cope with the problems of the world. A shield if you wish, but it was wearing out in the end."

"Wait a minute, you heard me say that? I was alone in that room."

Murdock cracked a teasing wink. "Not so Big Guy. I've been following you closely ever since I gave up the ghost. I saw and heard everything. I was with you in the van when you swerved to avoid hitting that deer."

"Funny, I had this weird sense I wasn't alone in there. Don't think I actually heard you, but I was thinking of you."

"That's comforting to know," Murdock smiled appreciatively.

"I wanna stay here with you, you crazy fool," B.A. gnarled.

"You might not like it. You see, I'm not the mad caper you used to know. I'm...sane now. Sad isn't it? I might get on your nerves for being your regular JoeSchmo. However, the Man upstairs did allow me to go out gracefully by retaining some of the zaniness that made me famous and made you love me, you big teddy bear you," he winked teasingly at B.A. who feigned a growl.

"I don't care. I'll take you anyway you are, crazy or not."

"Sorry B.A., can't."

"Why not?" He looked back at his form on the table. "I'm almost dead. I can let go and cross over with you."

"Why would you want that? You have a life to live."

"What about your life? They cheated you out of it," B.A. retorted.

"Yeah well it was probably for the best. Hey, I like it here. It's peaceful. No worries, no pain and looky here...," points to a tiny brown beagle lying at his feet, "Billy is here to keep me company."

"Well, I'll be a son-of-a-gun!" B.A. chuckled. "That thing's real."

"He sure is." With a sombre expression, Murdock turned back to B.A. and spoke earnestly. "Go on back, B.A.. It's not your time. Besides you will be entrusted with a special assignment."

"What's that?"

"To take care of Face and Hannibal. They will be going through some rough patches in the next couple of years. Not so much from grief 'cause they'll ultimately get over my death, but the trials and traumas they'll face will be hard to bear and they'll need someone to cling to."

"Will you...," B.A. gulped nervously, dreading to ask the question, "will you be there too?"

"In spirit I will, just like I've been these past few hours."

"Man I wish you could give me a sign that you're there. I mean...move an object or something."

"I tried. Doesn't work like in the movies. But if I can, I'll find a way to let you know I'm watching over you and if you need to talk, I'll listen."

"Thanks Buddy." B.A. cracked a smile and pulled Murdock into warm-hearted hug. "I'll miss you," he snuffled.

"Ditto, Big Guy," Murdock echoed, patting B.A. on the back. He then reluctantly pulled away and heaved a heavy-laden sigh. "Now go. They're waiting for you."

B.A. nodded and slowly drifted back into his body.

With a grateful smile, a woeful Murdock watched his best buddy creep back into his body. "So long...friend," he whispered chokingly as he slowly began to dematerialise.

B.A. gradually returned to the land of the living. As vital signs stabilized, his eyes fluttered open in time to see his best friend vanish before him.

Three weeks had gone by since Murdock's passing but raw and painful memories of his tragic death were still lingering. The A-Team had taken a temporarily leave of absence from the outside world and retreated to the safe haven of Crystal Lake, a place they'd chosen as Murdock's soul's final resting place.

Kelly had been fortunate to rely on an associate to take over her vetenary practice in her absence. The recent dramatic events in her life had taken their toll on her health, and she needed the time away from the Deckers of this world.

Over the days that followed Murdock's funerals, both military and private, the mourners adopted atypical behaviours to drown their sorrows. Hannibal shed his tough guy image to opt for a more flippant stance and as a result, was often seen engaging in fishing games with Murdock's dummy, Bob. Tawnia took on gardening as shelter from her grief and as for Face and Kelly, they sought solace in each other's arms and soon, their casual friendship deepened into genuine love. The petite vetenarian had succeeded in converting the once illustrious womanizer into a devoted one-woman man. Moonstruck Templeton Peck had been lovingly ensnared into a stable relationship and had no desire to disentangle himself from the web. Every night he would send a prayer to his deceased friend, assuring him of his genuine affection for 'his' girl. He was utterly grateful for Kelly and vouched to love and shield her from harm till his dying days.

Although placed on the critical list upon his admittance to the hospital, B.A. made a speedy recovery and was released within a week. The astonishing healing process baffled the physicians, leaving his friends to wonder whether a Divine Intervention had been at work. Maggie Sullivan had been instrumental in keeping B.A.'s identity under wrap during his stay, and would report to the team on his progress.

B.A. didn't mingle much and kept mostly to himself. He would work on his van or anything that needed fixing around the property. Banging on a pipe or hammering on nails was his line of attack against the raw, painful memories that would surface when his mind was left wandering.

Every late afternoon, B.A. would saunter down by the lake with the aid of a cane and ease himself down on the white bench by Murdock's grave. There, away from prying eyes, he would open the floodgate to his emotions and wear his heart on his sleeve to his best buddy, only.

"Can't believe it's been six weeks since you left. Damned I never thought I'd say this but I miss your crazy antics, you fool! You drove me bonkers with your jibber jabber but man! What I'd give to hear some now. And don't you go telling anyone I said that or they'll never let me live it down," he threatened good-naturedly. "Ah hell, if you did, it'd mean that..." his quivering voice trailed off as the hallow sense of finality ultimately hit him. His friend was no more.

As a gush of tears came to his eyes, a small brown beagle wobbled up to him. Between his teeth was a blue cap that he dropped at B.A.'s feet.

"Hey, what d'ya doing here, dog?" he barked, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "Haven't I seen you somewhere before?" He furrowed his brow in deep suspicion as an eerie feeling of déjà vu increasingly washed over him. "What's you got there?" He bent over to pick up the cap and studied it. A shock wave shot through his body and chilled him to the bone. "Where d'ya get that?" He frowned deeply at the frightening notion that sprung into mind. "No it can't be the sign? Murdock you...you ain't in there?" The dog looked up at B.A. with his sad big brown eyes. "Crazy fool! Leave it to you to come back as a dog." Silently B.A. nodded to the dog that jumped on the bench and laid his head on his lap.

**~The End~**

_**A huge thank you to all that read my story and I was impressed by the number of visitors and hits that I received. I like knowing that "The A-Team" is still appreciated after all these years.**_


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